


SV: TA Lex

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-11
Updated: 2006-02-11
Packaged: 2019-02-05 17:32:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12799041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: In this AU, Lex needs to support himself because he has disowned himself from his father. To do so, he becomes a teaching assistant, which allows him to further his education at the same time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Teaching Assistant Lex

 

A week into the semester, they were finally ready to let Lex begin teaching. Labs, that was. After a week of endless meetings, seminars, booklets, safety quizzes, and warnings about sexual harassment and the dangers of teaching assistant/student liaisons.

 

It was arguably the most boring week of Lex's life, but it would be worth it. Why? Because Metropolis University Graduate School (not Met Tech) would be paying for his tuition, which meant that he didn't have to rely on Daddy for anything. If Lex hadn't been the overachiever he was, graduating college long before his twenty-first birthday, he could have dipped into his trust fund. As it was, though, he was only nineteen, and if he hadn't outperformed the rest of the applicants enough to quell their anxieties about having someone his age teach their students, his only resource would've been his father. And that just wouldn't do.

 

His advisors advised him, as advisors do, to sign up for three classes maximum, but Lex, being Lex, signed up for five classes instead. Everyone insisted that he wouldn't have time for class, studying, homework, teaching, seminars, and research, but none of them were Lex Luthor, were they? He'd show them. And if any of his students tried asking him questions about the labs, he'd answer them and then some. He'd have them so confused with particle physics that by the end of the first week, they wouldn't be asking questions anymore.

 

And barring the possibility of fraternizing with any of his students or burning down the lab (which was a real risk when Lex decided to experiment on his own, especially when he was high), they couldn't kick him out. His place at MUGS, as it was affectionately known to his classmates, was secure.

 

Lex's watch beeped. It was precisely two o'clock, and he looked up, disappointed to see that the lab's wall clock was slow by one and a half minutes. Sighing, Lex put on his goggles, even though he'd had enough chemicals in his body and his eyes to be blind by now if they could've had any effect on him. Of course, though, he had to lead by example. That was one of the few valuable lessons he'd learned from his father.

 

Two minutes later (Lex hoped they wouldn't be this late every day), the students started filing in. Backpacks went on the floor by the hooks for the lab coats, notebooks went on the lab benches, and all the students' eyes went to Lex. Lex surveyed them one by one, not surprised by the lack of enthusiasm he found.

 

The slackers and overambitious students were quickly identified by no more than their responses to the roll call. Lex took mental note of each first impression, and despite the multiple potential trouble-makers, there was only one student that gave Lex cause for concern.

 

Standing by the door was a young man who looked all too familiar. Lex never forgot a face, but he couldn't put a name to this one. The object of Lex's interest was more than six feet tall and built like a football star, but for all his height, he was about as imposing as a sheep. Lex suspected the thick-framed glasses had something to do with it. And the way he was looking around the room, seeming lost.

 

The troubling thing, though, was how attractive Lex found him. If they'd been in a club rather than a laboratory, Lex would have been urging him toward a back room right now. And as long as Lex wanted to keep his assistantship, those kinds of thoughts were dangerous.

 

"Is there anyone whose name I didn't call?"

 

Lex knew very well that he hadn't called the name of the student standing by the door, but he wasn't going to let him know that. Knowledge was power, and sometimes not sharing your knowledge was power in itself.

 

The tall, attractive kid raised his hand halfway. "Clark Kent, I'm..."

 

"You're not on my roster," Lex replied immediately. Only two names were left unchecked and Kent wasn't one of them. "Do you have a transfer slip signed by the professor?"

 

Clark's eyes shifted around the room, and then back to Lex. "I'm not actually here for the lab, I'm here to observe. I'm a journali..ism major."

 

Lex narrowed his eyes at the hesitation in the middle of the phoneme. Any relief he might've felt at the fact that Clark was not his student and therefore, not off-limits, was offset by what Lex was sure he'd almost said - he was a journalist. A fucking journalist sent by his father to spy on him in graduate school.

 

"I'm sorry, Clark," he said coldly, "but we don't have room for any extra students. Your presence needs to be approved by one of the professors."

 

"Oh." Clark reached behind him for his backpack, seeming suddenly to remember something. "I have a note from Dr. Swann."

 

Lex took the note, still suspicious. He recognized Dr. Swann's writing, but what he didn't understand was why the dean of Metropolis University's College of Physical Sciences was signing permission slips for journalists, or undergraduates, if that was in fact what Clark was. It looked legit, though, and Lex would have to allow Clark to observe until Lex had the opportunity to have a little talk with the elusive Dr. Swann.

 

"What interest does a journalism major have in a general chemistry lab?" Lex asked, trying for a casual tone.

 

"Well I... I was actually thinking about changing my major," Clark stammered, zipping up his backpack as he spoke. "I wasn't sure what department to go into so Dr. Swann said the best way to figure it out was to check out some of the labs." Clark ducked his head, obviously trying to avoid the annoyed looks of the students who were impatiently waiting for the lab to start. For his part, Lex was trying to figure out how someone with as little assertiveness as Clark managed to obtain a meeting and a signature from Dr. Swann. The man was notoriously difficult to contact. Something wasn't right about this, and Lex was determined to figure out what it was.

 

"You need a lab coat and a pair of goggles," Lex replied simply, his thoughts running a mile a minute. Returning to the front of the room, Lex pulled down the blackboard where he'd written his contact information and the directions for the first lab. "Let's begin, shall we?"

 

Lex began by outlining his rules for lab. "Pre-laboratory exercises are to be turned in at the beginning of the class. You will not finish them at the lab bench and then turn them into me, and you will not tell me you forgot it. Doing so will result in a grade of zero on the exercise. Additionally, the pre-lab exercise will count as your attendance, so if you don't turn it in, you will also recieve zero points for attendance for that particular lab. Any questions?" The students were looking at each other in a somewhat confused manner, but no one asked any questions.

 

"Good," Lex continued, picking up a meter stick and tapping the whiteboard with it. "I'm listed in the directory as Alexander Joseph, but you can call me Lex. If you need to email me, I'm ajoseph at mugs dot edu and I expect everyone who has a question to email me well in advance of the lab. Excused absences go through Dr. Arigi, whose office is down the hall on the right. You should have already met her at the orientation seminar if you're planning to be a chemistry major."

 

Lex was certain that less than half of the students here actually planned to become chemistry majors. Most students only took this course as a distribution requirement because it was supposed to be the easiest of the science courses. That was also why they had Lex teaching this lab instead of a more advanced one, despite his qualifications. There still seemed to be a stigma associated with his age.

 

"If you haven't, I would suggest that you stop by her office as soon as you get a chance" Lex suggested, walking over to lock the lab door in order to deter late students from interrupting, "because as Lab Director, hers is the final word on excused absences and lab grades."

 

As the lab continued, Lex was satisfied to find that his professional manner set the tone for the students' behavior in the lab. In addition to supervising the students and giving instruction when it was called for, Lex kept an eye on Clark, who did exactly what he claimed to be here for: he observed the lab. Not Lex's teaching, but the lab itself, which Lex supposed was a good strategy for making someone believe you weren't watching them.

 

Just over an hour into the lab, there was a knock on the door. "You're late," Lex said without looking as he unlocked and opened the door. In hindsight, he should have made sure it was a student first. "Dr. Arigi."

 

"Good afternoon, Lex." Dr. Arigi scanned the room, nodding to herself before turning back to Lex. "I didn't mention this before because I didn't think it was necessary, but it's not university policy to lock the doors to the lab. Do you think you could remember that next time?" Despite her questioning tone, it was more of an order than a request.

 

"Sorry." Lex didn't mean it, and the look Dr. Arigi gave him seemed to indicate that she was aware of his insincerity. "I didn't want students to think they could just walk in late."

 

"Okay," she replied with a nod, and started to turn away from the door. "Just remember for next time."

 

"Yes, ma'am," he muttered sarcastically, his voice so low she couldn't have heard him. Lex grudgingly left the door open behind him before going to check on the nearest group of students.

 

Clark watched from the sidelines, his elbow resting on the lab bench as he watched the same group attempt to put together a three-dimensional molecular model. Although he was quiet, Clark's concentration was intense, his gaze flickering from one set of hands to another. The group was frustrated with the model, and Clark seemed hard pressed not to help. He stayed where he was, though, and didn't interfere.

 

Lex moved on to the next group. He could feel Clark's eyes following him, or perhaps it was his imagination. Paranoid or wishful thinking, Lex wasn't sure. All he knew was that the whole situation was more unsettling than he'd thought a simple lab could be.

 

"Do you want the blue copy or the yellow copy?"

 

Lex turned toward the student behind him, the one who had identified herself as Traci Singer during roll call. "It doesn't matter as long as I get a copy and you have your own copy to use as a reference when you're writing your lab report."

 

"When is the lab report due?"

 

Lex sighed. "At the beginning of lab next week, along with your pre-lab." Other students had come up to stand near Traci, some of them diligently writing down Lex's every word, others looking at him skeptically.

 

Lex looked at them just as skeptically. He wasn't convinced that the notes he was about to receive would be as in-depth and comprehensive as possible given the brief amount of time they'd had in today's lab. Nonetheless, Lex returned to the bench at the front of the room and announced that everyone who was finished with his or her lab should turn in one of the copies of their notes. When Heather Mathers started asking which copy of her notes Lex wanted, Lex raised his voice and repeated, "I don't care which copy of your notes I get, just as long as you have a copy and I have a copy. Yes, your notes will be graded." If they'd read their syllabus, they would have known that.

 

"Lex?" Tyler Kim, awkwardly tall and skinny, walked up to Lex holding a regular spiral-bound notebook. "I don't have a carbon copy notebook. What do you want me to...?"

 

"For today you can make a copy in the chemistry office - you know where that is, right? - and get those back to me." Then, because he could buy another one for himself later, Lex walked around to the bench drawer where he'd put his own carbon notebook and handed it to Tyler.

 

"But aren't these, like, twenty dollars or something?" Tyler's hands went to his pockets. "I don't have any with me right now..."

 

"Don't worry about it," Lex said with a grin. "It's on the department." It wasn't, technically, but this was something Lex's father would never do. He would never give anything, no matter how trivial, without expecting anything in return. And anything Lex could do to be less like his father was a reward in itself.

 

Lex fully expected the lab to be empty the moment he received the final set of lab notes, but that turned out not to be the case. Clark was still in the room, taking apart the three-dimensional molecular models and neatly (with an obsessive sort of attention to detail) packing them back into the plastic model kits.

 

"You don't have to do that," Lex informed him. Actually, Clark shouldn't5:58 PM 8/26/2005 be doing that. The students in the next lab were supposed to see the intact models and have the experience of taking them apart before they reached the final part of the lab during which they put together their own models. But Clark didn't know that, and more importantly, Clark was still here.

 

It wasn't important for the same reason it would have been important nearly two hours ago. Instead of being pleased with Clark's presence, Lex wondered why he was drawing attention to himself by remaining in the lab with Lex when everyone else was gone. Not the best way to stay under the radar for a journalist, unless Clark was going to come out and interview him right here and now.

 

Clark just shrugged. "It's okay." He concentrated intensely on the segments he was putting away until Lex's hand closed over his. Then Clark looked up at him, wide eyes even wider behind the glasses. The lenses could have been prescription, but the could just as easily have been fake. It was times like these that Lex resented how paranoid he had to be, all because of his father. Otherwise Lex wouldn't have been wondering whether the lenses were real, or a disguise for a miniature camera.

 

"Don't," Lex said firmly, taking the model away from Clark and putting it back together. It was a relatively simple molecule compared with the ones Lex had studied last year. Snapping the last two pieces in place, Lex returned to his bench to gather all the notes into a manilla envelope, well aware that Clark was watching him with a rather perplexed expression. Lex paused at the door, ready to shut off the lights. "Clark?"

 

Frowning, Clark stepped out into the hallway, and proceeded to stand right there as Lex closed and locked the door. Clark wasn't asking him any questions, but he wasn't leaving, either. "Can I help you?" Lex would have folded his arms over his chest if his hands weren't full.

 

"I... was just wondering..."

 

But a cat seemed to have gotten Clark's tongue, so Lex tucked the manilla folder under one arm and patted Clark on the shoulder with his free hand. Lex might have considered it flirting if he had any reason to think Clark wasn't working for his father or the tabloids. "While I appreciate the sentiment, Clark, I have a lot of work to do. Why don't you send me an email when you figure out what you want to say."

 

Lex acknowledged the silence he received in response with a nod. Turning on his heel, he headed for the stairs, taking them two steps at a time to get to his group's office. There were certainly better things Lex had to do with his time than grade notes, and he'd just as well get it out of the way.

 

Two flights up, Lex looked back over his shoulder, relieved to see that he was alone. Turning into the corridor, he walked the rest of the way to the office in silence. He shared the office with six other teaching assistants, but at the moment Lex was the only one occupying the space, and he was grateful for that. All the better to finish his work in a timely fashion.

 

"Lex?"

 

It wasn't possible. Lex looked up from where he'd just started unraveling the string on the envelope to see Clark standing in the doorway, backpack slipping off his shoulder. Lex had to force his eyes not to shift from Clark to the clock and back again, but he still couldn't stop his mind from replaying the last few moments, calculating the amount of time it'd taken him to climb two flights at a brisk pace and the distance between the stairway and the office. He hadn't even sat down yet and Clark shouldn't have been able to be there so soon. Once again, Lex reminded himself, his brain was playing tricks on him, speeding up time, making precious moments disappear. For a hopeful millisecond, Lex wondered if Clark could have taken the elevator, only to remember that the Bohr building didn't have one.

 

Lex knew he shouldn't let it distress him like this, but his heart sank. Maybe the doctors were right, maybe he needed to be taking medication, but he couldn't risk it. It would be too easy for anyone with the right connections to drug him. And Lex knew what they would think if he voiced that concern, so he never did. Fake arrogance could get one so far in certain situations.

 

"How can I help you, Clark?" Dropping the envelope onto the table, Lex rested one hip against the edge of his desk. If nothing else, perhaps talking to Clark could distract him from the rest of his life for a while.

 

"I don't know. I'm not really sure where to start." Clark seemed lost. Lex gestured to the chair at the adjacent desk. When Clark took the hint, pulling out the chair and sitting across from him, Lex sat down in his own chair and faced Clark.

 

"Why don't we start with what you're doing here." For the purposes of the conversation, Lex would act as if Clark's story were true, and try to get as much information as he could without outright demanding to know who Clark was working for. Lex couldn't help smirking when Clark blinked nervously in response to his comment. "Why did you choose Metropolis University?"

 

Oddly enough, Clark blushed, and a shy smile bloomed on his face. Interesting. "I didn't really choose it, it kind of chose me. I got here on a - on a football scholarship." So, Lex had been correct in his initial physical assessment of Clark. "One of my friends in high school got me interested in journalism, so I figured I'd major in it." Clark's smile turned less shy, his expression more nonchalant. Lex imagined him leaning back and studying his fingernails. "But I've been thinking about science. You know, finding out how things work."

 

Nodding, Lex opened the first desk drawer, sifting through a pile of papers and coming up with one that he handed to Clark. He may or may not have been telling the truth, but a love of science was something Lex didn't begrudge anyone. Even a false interest in the subject could lead to respect if not understanding. "The chemistry club has meetings every week, and Alpha Theta Pi is hosting a movie night this Friday."

 

Staring at the list, Clark raised his eyebrows. "What are these, fraternities?"

 

"No," Lex replied patiently, "they're scientific honor societies. But those won't be relevant to you for a few years at least."

 

"You think it'll take me that long?"

 

Lex could tell from the smirk on his face that Clark was playing with him. He wasn't taking any of this seriously, and Lex was quickly losing patience. "I don't know, Clark. How many science credits are you planning on taking this year?"

 

"I don't know," Clark said with another shrug, sounding disappointed. "I should probably go."

 

Lex couldn't figure out what Clark was fishing for to save his life. Which he might have to do if his suspicions were correct. Shrugging himself, Lex turned back to his desk, letting the notes slide out of the envelope. He could feel Clark watching him. Lex didn't answer, he simply ignored Clark, and Clark's hesitation and reluctance were nearly physical. The pull to look at Clark, try to figure out what he was thinking, was so strong that all Lex could do was stare at the papers in front of him without seeing them. It had to be attention deficit disorder, because staying this still wasn't supposed to be this hard.

 

"Okay." With that, Clark walked out of the office, and probably out of Lex's life forever.

 

It was probably for the best.

 

The only reason Lex didn't have a headache was that he didn't get headaches. Nevertheless, Lex was convinced that were he prone to headaches, he would have one right now. The grading had taken far longer than he'd hoped, and now he had to drive all the way back to his dorm.

 

When Lex saw the parking ticket on his windshield, he nearly lost it. Fortunately for any passersby who might have gotten in the way of Lex's impending outburst, his hands were full, and he wasn't about to get himself fired his first week on the job. Grinding his teeth, Lex remotely unlocked the car door, tossed the students' papers onto the passenger's side seat, and reached over to pocket the ticket. Someone was going to have to pay for this, and unfortunately, that someone was probably going to have to be Lex.

 

These were the types of things that made Lex wonder, just for a moment, if he'd made the right decision. Having to pay his own parking tickets, having to live in a dorm with other students, having to act responsible. While Lex congratulated himself for being good at overcoming these obstacles, their very existance still annoyed the hell out of them.

 

It would have been so much easier to be living in his own penthouse, taking every bribe Daddy wanted to give him to keep him out of trouble. Stay out of the papers, off the streets, away from LuthorCorp. But Lex refused to belong to anyone, especially his father, and after what had happened three years ago...

 

The only other way would have been to beat his father at his own game, but his father's game was business, and Lex didn't have a mind for business. That was one thing his father had always been right about: Lex always failed because he always let his emotions get in the way. Ironic that the one thing that had kept him from challenging his father corporately no longer seemed to exist. Emotions had been replaced by calculations and paranoia, and Lex was sure he should be over it by now. But he wasn't.

 

Distractions were all he had left. Everything he did was a distraction from something else, even other distractions. Moments when he wasn't looking over his shoulder for people following him or trying to figure out where they could fit cameras were rare, and even rarer were the times when Lex was able to relax. He knew he put on a good face, for the most part, and he seemed perfectly relaxed to most other people. That was because all the chaos was in his mind, where no one can see.

 

Lex didn't even know he'd dialed until he heard the distant ring in his air. Lex leaned back in the driver's seat, relieved when he recognized the voice. If he was going to make a phone call without even realizing it, there was only one person Lex wanted to have on the other line. "Bruce."

 

"What do you need?" Bruce asked immediately, though he sounded distracted too. They both knew that the relationship had dissolved into this, into only calling each other when they needed favors. Bruce called even less frequently now, because Lex had nothing left to offer him.

 

"You could make a parking ticket disappear," Lex mused, but he shrugged, running his fingers over the steering wheel. He needed to pay off his college tuition, he needed a fix, he needed to get away from academia and go... somewhere else. Then he remembered the cause of his nonexistant headache. "I need you to check into someone's background for me."

 

"Who is it this time, Lex?" Bruce sounded weary, and he had every right to, but Lex knew Bruce wouldn't refuse him. "New girlfriend? Boyfriend? Boss? Janitor's second cousin twice removed?"

 

"Very funny, Bruce." It wasn't, of course. Lex closed his eyes. "His name's Clark Kent, claims to be an undergrad on a football scholarship." Not that he wasn't built for it, but that didn't mean it was true. "Journalism major."

 

Lex knew Bruce was going to sigh even before he heard it. "Lex, you can't just check up on every person who shows some interest in journalism or... anything else, Lex, listen to me. If they knew how many people I've looked into for you..."

 

"But they don't," Lex reminded him, punching at the steering wheel and scowling when he hit the horn instead. As if he didn't draw enough attention to himself. "And they're not going to. If you say one word..."

 

"What, Lex? You'll sic Lionel on me?"

 

"Fuck you," Lex retorted. Bruce knew very well that Lex couldn't do that any more. "Even if I could-"

 

"You wouldn't." Bruce was silent for what seemed like a long time. Not that Lex was one to make that judgment.

 

"What makes you think I was going to say that?"

 

Bruce ignored his indignance. "If I do what you want, Lex, will you do something for me?"

 

Fuck him, Lex thought. Bruce knew Lex didn't have the access to money or connections the way he used to. "What?"

 

"Take care of yourself," he said somberly, and Lex didn't have anything to say to that. He stared at the blinking display on the phone, and wondered when he'd hung up on Bruce.

 

It didn't matter. He'd spent all day playing by the rules. Now it was time to break a few.

 

Everybody who was anybody in Metropolis partied at Club Zero. Although its slogan was 'zero consequences', it might as well have beed called 'zero inhibitions', because the atmosphere was one of those 'anything goes' atmospheres, with the disclaimer that in order for anything to go, you had to get in. To get in, you had to be somebody.

 

Nobodies weren't allowed, but for some reason, they still let Lex in. Lex had been a somebody once - when he'd been Lex Luthor, son of Lionel Luthor, and all the privileges that went along with that. He'd had the prestige and money required to frequent a club like Zero, and had done so since he'd discovered it at fifteen years old.

 

At nineteen, he wasn't any more legal than he'd been then, but at least he looked the part. Maybe that was why they still let him through the doors that were blocked to reporters and anyone who wasn't in the top one percent tax bracket. The decor of the club inside wasn't anything to get excited about, but no one went to Zero because it looked impressive. It was the people that made the impressions, and Lex was still popular, even now that he was a Joseph instead of a Luthor.

 

He still wondered why they didn't look at him differently. Technically, he wasn't part of their peer group anymore, but no one seemed phased by it. Which would have been fine with Lex if he could have enjoyed it, but Lex knew himself and knew he needed something to help clear his mind.

 

He found Max on the floor, talking to another bouncer. Lex waited patiently, because things never changed, and if they did tonight he'd be lucky. Max noticed him a few minutes later, and sauntered over to what had once been his best customer. "You're alone tonight," he observed, talking to Lex but keeping his eyes on the rest of the club. That was the way they did things here. Looking the other way.

 

"Not for long," Lex replied optimistically, and reached reluctantly for his wallet. He didn't have the kind of cash he used to be able to throw around, but it ought to be good enough for tonight, if Max still gave him the good stuff. "I need something fast," he said, palming a fifty into Max's hand, "something that works this time."

 

There was no visible change in Max's expression, but Lex could tell he was more amused than insulted. Max had always liked him, for some reason. Lex didn't know many other people who could get away with talking to Max like that.

 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Max said, reaching into his own pocket and exchanging the fifty for a couple tabs of something Lex didn't even bother to look at before ingesting them. Max just shook his head, well aware of Lex's behavior despite the fact that his outward attention was on what might turn out to be a brawl at the bar. Or a fuck, but there were back rooms for that.

 

The effect wasn't immediate, so Lex groped for more cash, but Max just sighed and muttered, "Take off, Lex," pushing him away with a casual but firm hand to Lex's shoulder. So Lex started stumbling away, toward the back where the lights were lower and the smell was stronger. Anonymity, sex, and a good high were all Lex wanted tonight.

 

"You look tense."

 

Lex slid his eyes over to the voice. Anywhere else his first thought would've been a whore, but he had to remind himself that this was Zero, and whores were more nobodies than Lex was. A beguiling smile slid over Lex's lips as he took in the stranger who Lex knew nothing about other than that he was a somebody. "What are you going to do about it?"

 

He knew it was working when he could feel every stray grain of powder biting into his skin, the only deviation from the smoothness of the glass under his bare back. Time-space continuum wasn't working so well but then, it never did, and right now the room was swelling and his cock was in some guy's mouth. Groaning, Lex gripped the edges of the table, fingers slipping slick with sweat, squeaking against the glass but Lex was pretty sure he was the only one hearing it.

 

Coming was seeing stars, over too soon and then his legs were being pushed up, strong hands on his hips dragging him to the edge of the table. Slick fingers pushed inside and Lex grabbed at the table, fumbling for purchase or balance any way he could find them. It was working, dammit. All he could think about was the cock in his ass/the hands on his hips/the glass on his skin/the colors in the room, seductively caressing him and easing his thoughts into numbness.

 

Lex hadn't felt this good in a long time, hadn't needed to feel this good in a long time and it was fucking good thing he was high because that meant he wasn't thinking about why he needed it. All that mattered was rock hard cock pounding him closer and closer to oblivion, prostate, silver sparks, fingers that would leave bruises. Pain that made him feel alive again, erased the numbness of the soul and replaced it with numbness of his mind. All body and no mind, that was Lex's favorite place to be.

 

It was the only time he let himself scream.

 

There was nothing so comforting as waking up alone in his own bed, and nothing more discomforting than having the feeling that someone was watching him. Lex blinked his eyes open, and as they adjusted to the low light of his dorm room, Lex recognized a figure leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest.

 

The drugs must have been better than he'd thought. Why else would he have brought his fuck back to his dorm? That wasn't his style, not his style at all.

 

"Well, I see you're finally awake," the man said, pushing off from the door and reaching for a leather jacket. "See ya."

 

Lex had him pinned up against the door in a matter of seconds, despite the fact that he wasn't wearing any clothes. It would have been one thing if the guy had left during the night, or at least been in bed with Lex when he'd woken up, but this wasn't right. Being watched during his sleep, that wasn't right.

 

"Who are you working for?" he demanded, knowing full well that the only thing he was accomplishing was potentially alienating yet another acquaintance. It happened all too often but it was the only way to stay safe.

 

"I'm not working for anyone," the guy said impatiently, pushing Lex away and straightening out his shirt. "Just doing a favor for a friend."

 

"Fucking me and spying on me is a favor?" Lex considered himself to be fairly intelligent most of the time, but this wasn't making any sense. Which meant that either Lex was missing something, or the guy was lying.

 

"Take a pill." It was certainly due to Lex's lack of familiarity with slang when he looked at the hand held up in front of him and expected there to pill there, if only for a split second. But the hand was only there to keep Lex from attacking again, and he realized it was probably not the dumbest idea in the world to protect oneself from a raving madman. "Max just wanted me to make sure you were okay."

 

"Max?" Max wouldn't do this to him, would he? Max knew there were very few people Lex trusted, and he'd thought Max would honor that. "He told you where I live?"

 

"No, you did. After you tried to thank Max for his hospitality."

 

"I what?"

 

The guy laughed. "You came onto Max in front of everyone at Zero, asking how best you could repay him for - how did you put it - 'the best shit I've had in my life', I believe. I don't think you can blame Max for wanting to make sure you got yourself home safe."

 

Lex didn't even know where to start. The story, if true, was further proof that the drugs were, in fact, better than Lex had thought, and if false, Lex wouldn't be able to disprove it without first humiliating himself. Great.

 

He wasn't even going to consider the fact that Max had sent a babysitter with Lex because he cared. He knew full well why Max had done this, if in fact he had. Max didn't want Lex's big mouth getting Zero in the papers or on the police radar, and that was why Lex had been under observation until he came out of it. Now in addition to his father's people and cameras, Lex was going to have to worry about Max's people. Great. Just great. And shit.

 

"No one can blame Max for anything." Except for giving him the drugs, which Lex had specifically asked for. One-tenth of the law, indeed. "What's in it for you?"

 

"Now, Lex, that's a rather naive question, don't you think?" Lex easily recognized the disguised bitterness in his companion's voice. "The real question is, what do I have to lose if I don't do what Max asks?"

 

He brought up a good point, Lex thought. Good enough that he wasn't going to press any further. "And what do you have to lose?"

 

"Same thing you do, Lex. My name, my inheritance, you name it."

 

"I'm not a Luthor anymore." Lex felt obligated to clear that up from the beginning. "I didn't lose my name and inheritance, I chose to walk away from it. What do you have to lose?"

 

The man stepped very close, his voice low and next to Lex's ear. "Royce Industries," he hissed. Lex pulled back with an impressed, if skeptical, smile.

 

"You're Jackson Royce's son," he exclaimed.

 

Royce nodded and extended his hand. "But you can call me Jude."

 

Lex ignored Jude's hand. "Aren't you engaged?" he asked smugly. Lex may have been angry when he found out what his father did to his mother, but that didn't change the fact that he now had blackmail material against the son of one of the most powerful corporate players in Metropolis. Opportunities like this were few and far between ever since Lex had publicly removed himself from his father's world.

 

Jude's pleased expression dimmed, but he ignored the charge and tossed Lex's pants at him. "Get dressed," he demanded. Lex simply raised his eyebrows. "You're disgusting."

 

"I'm disgusting?" Lex laughed incredulously. "And what do you think your fiancee would think about you if she discovered how you spend your nights? What did you tell her, Jude?" Lex paused, watching as Jude stalked closer. "You were working late at the office?"

 

"She better not find out, Luthor," Jude growled, shoving Lex against the door and pinning him there with an arm under his chin. Lex knew he would get away. He just had to breathe first.

 

"I'm not a Luthor!" At this point, Lex didn't give a fuck if anyone heard them. He was just sick of having to explain this fact over and over. "Is that why you fucked me? Because I'm a Luthor?" It made more sense than anything else. Breathing was getting harder with Jude's arm there. Lex took a few ragged breaths, then snapped his head forward, butting against Jude's forehead. He probably didn't need to resort to such painful measures to get away, but dammit, he was pissed off. "Even though you find me so disgusting?" After all, it wasn't like it hadn't happened before.

 

"Fuck you," Jude moaned, holding his arm across his head. "Do you know who the fuck I am?" Lex supposed that was supposed to be some kind of threat, but he didn't respond. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his throat. All things considered, it was nice to actually be in pain for once. Better than waiting for it. Lex's thought were more focused for once; no need to be paranoid when the threat was standing right in front of him. Good for a change. "I don't give a fuck what your last name is, Lex. Amanda finds out about this, I'll make sure you lose everything."

 

Lex raised his head, and wondered if the smile on his face was as hysterical as it felt. "Don't you get it, Jude?" Jude watched him suspiciously. Said nothing. "I have nothing left to lose." It was such a brave and stupid thing to say, because a man with nothing to lose was a man who had no reason not to stab anyone in the back. And if Jude believed him, which Lex wasn't sure he did, he'd have another reason to sleep with one eye open. Both of them would.

 

But Lex was already sleeping with one eye open. He had been for the last three years.

 

He wondered if, eventually, he would stop sleeping altogether.

 

After Jude had huffed out that morning (and really, he was as much of a drama queen as Lex had heard the senior Royce could be), the rest of the day had turned out to be uneventful. At least, uneventful if you were Lex-formerly-Luthor, which Lex was. His three graduate-level classes were finished by three in the afternoon, followed by an hour of scheduled tutoring during which Lex did his homework because, just as Lex had expected, no students showed up to be tutored.

 

All in all, graduate school was turning out to be as tedious as any period of training should be. Fortunately for Lex, whose mind tended to wander into even deeper waters of paranoia and conspiracy when not entertained, he had another lab to teach on Wednesday. Two labs a week was hardly going to be enough to keep him busy, but soon the lab reports would start pouring in and grading those would add another hour or so to his schedule. And next month, Lex would be allowed to begin the formality of interviewing faculty from whom he would choose his research advisor.

 

Not that it all wasn't a big waste of time. Lex already knew which professor was going to take the title of mentor while Lex continued his research. There was the issue of funding and, for most students, their research would consist of the professor's research, but Lex had something they didn't. It wasn't money, not anymore, but he had an established presence. Even former Luthors got special treatment, and when it came to Lex's research, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 

His research. That was really the only reason he was here at all. The university had the resources that even Lex's father couldn't hope to obtain, and it was all out in the open. No secret projects, no paying off of federal employees, no mysteriously disappearing human and animal subjects. Not everything at the university was done by the books, but it was a hell of a lot more legitimate than the laboratories at LuthorCorp.

 

After his noon class in the earth sciences building, Lex had one hour to get to the labs in the chemistry department, write everything on the board, and make sure everything in the lab was in order. If the TA before him had taken the time to clean up and leave the models as they should be, he wouldn't have a problem meeting the deadline. And even if he did, Lex was very good at improvising.

 

"Lex, I'm sorry." Lex blinked up at Dr. Arigi, who was opening a model kit on the first bench. None of the other kits were opened, nor were any of the models constructed. "No one remembered to tell Matt to keep the models together after he left the meeting early last week."

 

Not saying a word in response, Lex got right to work on constructing one of the other models. Dr. Arigi was working on a carvone, so Lex started on the isoamyl acetate. No identical models in one lab.

 

Dr. Arigi was saying something. "Sorry?"

 

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it, Lex. I'm going to have to hire someone to set up the labs beforehand. I'm not going to have time for this every week. Not you," she said before Lex could offer. "Someone who's not a TA."

 

Of course, no one thought he'd be able to handle it. Five classes, two labs, but what they didn't realize was that he had nothing else. Just time and a harried mind.

 

"I can do it," he insisted, if only for the record. Maybe Dr. Arigi would be more easily convinced if he implied that his poverty required a second job.

 

"Sorry, Lex. University policy."

 

Bullshit, Lex thought, but didn't say anything. It was an easy answer, one Dr. Arigi had to know he could see right through. She just didn't want him overextending himself and taking the blame when he couldn't live up to his commitments. He could, of course. But no one thought he could. They all thought he was just an overachieving rich man's son who would get tired of his latest rebellion soon enough.

 

One day, Lex was going to prove all of them wrong.

 

Jude wasn't at Zero that night. But Lex didn't go in order to see Jude; he went because he had something to prove. He had to prove that he was still a part of that subculture, and he had to prove that he wasn't intimidated by Jude's threats. He also had to protect himself against a morning-after incident like the one he'd had with Jude, so he didn't buy anything from Max. As a result, the night was mostly a waste. The next morning, Lex figured that since he'd managed to not get laid at Zero of all places, things couldn't possibly get worse.

 

He was wrong. When he tried to gain admittance to his nine a.m. class, he was denied.

 

"The dean hasn't approved your request to add this course," Dr. Lee informed him. "He wants to see you."

 

"The dean?" Lex hadn't thought the dean had to approve anything unless it was after the two week mark. "You mean..."

 

Dr. Lee nodded. "Dr. Swann. Here." Dr. Lee handed him a printout of an email. "He's giving a seminar in Rosetta this morning. He reserved time in his schedule to meet with you immediately following the seminar. He says to be there at ten o'clock sharp."

 

"Rosetta?" Lex repeated, dumbfounded. "But that's the foreign language building. He's the dean of the Department of Earth and Space Sciences."

 

Dr. Lee shrugged and turned to start writing on blackboard. "Dr. Swann occassionally volunteers to be part of a special lecture series on foreign languages," he explained. "He tutors several of the international students and professors with their English as well."

 

Lex stared at the printout in his hand. "How does he have time?"

 

"No one knows how he does it," Dr. Lee said with a grin. He reached for the door, about to close it and start the lecture from the looks of the time. "He must be a genius like you."

 

That was the first time Lex smiled in two days.

 

Dr. Swann's specialty was in dead languages. He'd been a vital participant in the translation of several documents as well as murals drawn on cave walls, all in languages that had few or no ties to living languages. Language, Dr. Swann explained, was more than letters and words. In addition to being a form of communication within a culture, it was also an extension of the culture it represented. Using these clues along with logic and mathematics, any language was decipherable.

 

Nearly an hour had passed before Lex remembered to be irritated by Dr. Swann's failure to approve his schedule. That fact itself irritated Lex a little when he realized he'd let down his guard. Without drugs, even. But Swann's presentation had been so cohesive and comprehensive that Lex had been drawn in, fascinated by everything he had to say.

 

Lex was the last to remain in the lecture hall when the seminar and question session were finished. Dr. Swann, seeming not to notice him, reached for something under the desk before stepping out from behind the podium.

 

Actually, limping was probably a more appropriate word. Dr. Swann limped out from behind the podium, leaning heavily on the cane in his right hand. "Lex," he began, much to Lex's surprise, "do you think you could help me with these papers?" Recovering quickly, Lex shouldered his backpack, stuffed the printout of the email in his pocket, and trotted down the steps to pick up Dr. Swann's notes from the desk.

 

Dr. Swann moved quickly for a man with a limp. He spoke slowly, though, spending the entire walk to his office recounting how he'd helped name the language center Rosetta. Lex didn't have to be a foreign language major to know the significance of the name. Swann may have been a genius, but he was also a bore.

 

"Have a seat." As directed, Lex took a seat, leaning forward to place the notes on Dr. Swann's desk. While he was leaning over the desk, Lex's eyes flickered over the other papers, and he tried to glean as much as he could from his brief glance. "Sit up, Lex." Caught, Lex sat back in his seat, wondering what was going to happen next. Swann didn't miss anything. "This isn't your father's boardroom."

 

Swann's final statement caught Lex by surprise. He turned to look at the dean, who made his way to the chair behind the desk, unconcerned. Lex started to wonder if he'd met Dr. Swann before.

 

But Swann got right down to business. "Lex, unfortunately, I'm unable to approve the schedule you submitted. Four courses is the maximum allowed for a teaching assistant, and with your other commitments I wouldn't advise more than three this semester."

 

"You're not my advisor," Lex said stiffly. "And what do you know about my other commitments?"

 

Swann was unperturbed despite Lex's suspicious tone. "You need to start thinking about research advisors."

 

"But I already know-"

 

"I know you wanted to continue your research with Dr. Walsh," Swann interrupted. "I'm afraid that's not going to be possible."

 

"Not possible?" Lex jumped abruptly from his chair. The threatening stance he took in front of Swann's desk wasn't entirely intentional, but might serve its purpose. "Why isn't it possible?" he asked dangerously.

 

Swann simply gazed at him for several moments. "Sit down, Lex." Lex glared until it became clear that Swann was not about to be intimidated. He reached back for the arms of the chair to steady himself before he sat down. He had to continue his research with Dr. Walsh. There was no other option. "I'm afraid that Dr. Walsh is unreachable."

 

"Unreachable?" Swann nodded. "I just talked to him two weeks ago."

 

"I know, Lex." Dr. Swann seemed to know an awful lot about him. Not for the first time, Lex wondered if Swann worked for his father. "He seems to have disappeared."

 

Disappeared. The word seemed to echo in the room, even in the cacophony of Lex's mind. How many people had dissapeared - test subjects, students, LuthorCorp lab directors and vice presidents - in his lifetime? Too many to count, and as far as Lex knew, all the disappearances could be traced back to one person.

 

Lex's father.

 

"No one has heard from him for six days," Swann continued, and Lex looked up at the mention of such a specific time frame. "I was the last to talk to him. Dr. Walsh called to let me know about a possible breakthrough in his research. A student had approached him with information about a classified project he'd been working on with Lionel Luthor." Lex's gaze narrowed sharply. "As I was talking with him, the phone line went dead. By the time I got to his office, there was nothing except for a note taped to his door."

 

"The phone was tapped." Lex swung his head up, eyes darting from one corner of the room to the other, the vents and the phone line. Unlike others who had observed him doing this, Dr. Swann didn't look at him like he was crazy.

 

"This office is clean," Swann tried to assure him, but Lex shook his head. You could never know. "It's swept every week."

 

While it was somewhat comforting that Swann, too, was paranoid, that didn't mean he could trust whoever swept the room. Besides, how did he know Swann wasn't lying to gain his empathy and trust? "What did the note say?"

 

"See for yourself," Swann offered, nodding at the door to his office. "It's still there."

 

It was only a short walk down two corridors to reach Dr. Walsh's office, which made Lex wonder at the resources that would have been needed to clear it in such a short amount of time without any witnesses. Lex knew the route by heart; Walsh's office had been a second home to him during the final two years of his undergraduate at the university. It had been a lucky break to find out that Dr. Walsh was interested in the same research Lex had wanted to pursue independently of his father. Dr. Walsh had never seen his age, only his mind, and had spent hours devising and executing experiments in which they collected more data than Lex could have hoped to obtain on his own.

 

Everything was gone. The three-dimensional models, the disorganized piles of paper that only Walsh and Lex knew their way through, the poster of Einstein behind Walsh's desk. Nothing remained except for a note informing the public that Walsh's classes and labs had been cancelled.

 

This wasn't right.

 

"Excuse me?" Lex looked up at the unfamiliar voice. A courier stood in the doorway, holding a clipboard and a thick white envelope. "Are you Dr. Walsh?"

 

Lex considered lying, but it could be a test. Or someone who wanted to kill Walsh. "No, but I'm his research assistant." It had been true last semester, and it would be true as soon as he located Walsh again. "I can take that," he said, holding out his hands.

 

"I don't know," the courier said hesitantly. "I'm only supposed to let Dr. Walsh sign for it."

 

"It's okay." Lex smiled reassuringly. "I have his permission to sign for him." The courier looked doubtful, but Lex was too quick for him to respond, signing the clipboard in Walsh's name and taking the envelope. There was no return address. "I'm sorry, who was this from again?"

 

"I - I have to go." And go he did, leaving Lex standing in the middle of the empty room with an envelope lacking a return address.

 

Lex turned the envelope over, and sliced through the paper with his keys.

 

The envelope was full of cash. Hundred-dollar bills, and Lex knew Dr. Walsh wasn't the kind to take bribes. His research was as important to him as it was to Lex, and if he'd been getting a grant, it would have arrived in the form of a check. Not cash. Never cash.

 

There was a note inside.

 

The girl has been snooping, it read. Make sure she doesn't learn anything.

 

Dr. Walsh's primary lab was adjacent to his office, but it too was empty. There was another lab on the other wing of the building. Lex only hoped his key would still work.

 

It didn't. The locks had been changed. Not surprising, but even if he were able to get in, Lex suspected he wouldn't have found anything anyway.

 

He considered the possibility that the door was locked because there was something to find inside, but any idiot could pick a lock. There had to be something, though, some evidence of what had happened or who had been there. All he had was an envelope full of enough money to buy himself another life - and one of luxury - anywhere he wanted, but he had no way of knowing whether it was safe. Money could be marked. Money clips could be tracking devices.

 

"I need a lab," he told Bruce as he strode down the corridor back toward Dr. Swann's office. He had no idea how long he'd been gone, but he couldn't trust Swann to help him. He couldn't trust anyone besides Bruce.

 

"When?"

 

Swann's door was closed, but it opened easily. Among the disarray of papers on his desk, there was a fresh post-it informing Lex that Swann had had a class to teach and that Lex should submit his new schedule to Swann's mailbox. Lex turned over cell to see how much time he'd lost this time, grinding his teeth when he saw that it had been three hours. Where did his time go? Really, where did it go?

 

He heard the distant sound of Bruce's voice, and only then did he realize that Bruce was still on the line. "As soon as possible," he replied, interrupting Bruce in the middle of a mild-mannered threat to Lex's well-being.

 

"I'll send a driver," Bruce answered tiredly. "Don't do anything stupid."

 

"Who, me?"

 

Bruce hung up on him.

 

Dr. Swann wasn't a stupid man. Considering his job title, that was probably to be expected. But it was as if he'd seen Lex coming. Despite the massive clutter of papers throughout the office and the files readily available on his computer, none of them were of any use to Lex. The information he found was important - to other people. Not to him.

 

After hours of fruitless searching, the door to Dr. Swann's office burst open. Wondering why Swann would make such a dramatic entrance, Lex spun around, only to get a brief glimpse at two armed men before they pushed him around so he couldn't see their faces. His heart hammering in his chest, Lex demanded to know what was going on.

 

"Alexander Joseph, you're under arrest for the possession of stolen property." Lex was sure that was what he'd heard, but it didn't make any sense. Not until they started searching him and triumphantly removed the envelope full of money from his pocket. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you." So, maybe it had been a bad idea to sign for the package. Was Dr. Walsh receiving stolen money? He wouldn't do that, not knowingly.

 

Lex grunted as they yanked his arms behind his back and cuffed him, reading him the rest of his rights. Well, this was just perfect. Lex Luthor could have demanded that they let him go, asked if they knew who his father was, but Alexander Joseph didn't have that privilege. Hell, it was probably his father who was behind all this. Kidnapping Walsh because of whatever information he had that would be dangerous for LuthorCorp's PR and setting Lex up to be taken away before he could learn anything incriminating - or maybe he was going to be delivered to his father. That would be just like him to try and bargain Lex back into his life.

 

Well, that wasn't going to happen. Lex wasn't going to be his father's plaything again. He'd been manipulated enough times, he'd had enough encounters with people he'd thought were his friends only to find out they were working for his father. He wasn't going to go through with that again. One of these days, his father was going to learn to leave him well enough alone.

 

It wasn't the first time Lex had been arrested, but it was the first time he'd been arrested as Alexander Joseph. Which, considering the fact that he'd been Alexander Joseph for over two years now, was pretty impressive.

 

His father's appearance at the station was neither surprising nor welcome. Lex ignored him for as long as he could, but Dad just stood there, staring at him with that penetrating gaze. It was the first time Lex had seen his father in three years; nevertheless, he told himself that he was only acknowledging his father's presence to make his cellmates shut up.

 

"Lionel," Lex said stiffly as he stood across from his father on the other side of the bars, angry at himself for having to quell the instinct to call him Dad. A lot of time had passed but apparently he was still susceptible to the idea that blood relations should love one another. Lex took a steadying breath, trying to appear calm when his insides were in turmoil. He hadn't thought it was possible to love someone and hate them at the same time. Apparently, he was wrong.

 

"Son." Dad's tone was arrogant and condescending, just like it had been last time they'd talked. It should have been the final time.

 

"I'm not your son," Lex spat, indignance the only thing that gave him the courage to look his father in the eye. Instinct made him itch to grab the bars and draw himself up to his father's eye level, attempt to intimidate him. The need to keep his distance kept him from doing so.

 

The chuckle came from low in his father's throat, made a shiver curl up Lex's spine. When Dad spoke, he lowered his voice and his face, bringing himself closer to Lex. "You can't change who you are by changing your name," he admonished, narrowing his eyes at Lex. "You are still my son. Guards," he called, and stepped back from the bars.

 

Lex stood there in shock when they unlocked and opened the gate. So, Dad had taken care of his bail, probably managed to get all the charges dropped too. While Lex wasn't sure his testimony that he hadn't known it was stolen property would hold up, he wasn't about to indebt himself to his father. Not after everything that had happened.

 

"Mr. Joseph?"

 

The guards were indicating that Lex should step out of the cell. Lex refused. He ignored them and stared at his father. "I can't believe you did this."

 

Lex's father took advantage of the lack of bars between them now, stepping close enough that Lex could feel breath on his face. Lex turned his head away, averting his gaze. "All I've ever wanted is to protect you, Lex. Is a father not allowed to protect his son?"

 

"The only thing I need protection from is you!" he yelled, faltering back a step to look up into his father's face. "You spy on me, you pay people to be my friends, to be..."

 

"Lex," Lionel said sharply, glancing over Lex's shoulder. Lex knew what this was about; Dad didn't want Lex to say anything that would hurt his reputation. Because it was always about that, wasn't it? Dad's reputation, his good name, the appearance of being a good citizen and a good father. The fact that he was actually neither of those things only mattered as long as no one knew. Those who knew the truth were made to disappear before they could enlighten the rest of society. Lex hadn't been made to disappear yet, but that didn't mean his father wasn't trying. "I'm not going to discuss this in front of..."

 

"No! I'm not going to play the good son anymore!" Lex clenched his hands into fists, struggling to keep them at his sides. There had to be something wrong with him if he couldn't hit his father, not after everything his father had done. "If I'd wanted to fight with you I would've stayed! Why did you think I left, Dad? I don't care what you do with your life as long as you stay out of mine." Feeling somehow calmer, Lex stepped back into his father's personal space, glowering up at him. "You come back into my life, you don't get to decide what we do and do not discuss."

 

"Not. Here," Lionel snarled into Lex's ear. He clamped a hand on Lex's shoulder and continued leaning in. His voice softened into what Lex assumed was supposed to be a soothing tone, but it grated on his every nerve. "You don't want to do this, Lex. Trust me. It will be easier for all of us if you come back to the penthouse and we can discuss this after you have a clearer head."

 

The walls started closing in around him until Lex realized it was just the guards, bodily escorting him out of the cell and slamming the gate shut, re-locking it. Apparently they wouldn't hold him if he wasn't officially under arrest anymore.

 

Maybe they would re-arrest him for assault if he clocked his father like he really wanted to. "I'm not going with you," he seethed. Unfortunately, he didn't know where he was going to go. He had no money on him to get a cab back to the university. He could try to call Bruce, if he could manage to get some change for the pay phone. If he could manage to get his father to leave.

 

"That would be unwise, Son."

 

Lex knew a threat when he heard it. It wasn't clear exactly what his father was threatening, but it didn't matter. Lex had been through hell and back, and anything his father tried to do to him couldn't make things any worse.

 

"Don't worry, Dad. I'm not going to let anyone overhear." As much as it disgusted Lex to do so, he clamped a hand on his father's shoulder, leaning up to whisper in his ear. "I'm not the one who belongs here, and you know it. You are. I should be dead."

 

"But you're not," Lionel said calmly. Yes; unfortunately, that was the truth, even if Lex didn't have the vaguest idea how he was alive.

 

"God knows why," Lex murmured, and pulled away. He'd tried for years not to think about it, not to remember the sheer terror of watching an axe hurtling toward his face, the relief when its path was diverted, and the numbing pain when it sliced through his wrist. Lex rubbed his hand over the scar that still remained, encircling his wrist, a constant reminder of the last day he'd considered himself his father's son. Turning back, Lex confronted his father with a baffled look, still needing to understand even though it didn't matter. "You claim you want to protect me, but you're the reason this happened." Lex shoved his wrist in his father's face for evidence. "She would have killed me if... if..." And that was one sentence he still didn't know how to complete, even to this day. Part of him hoped that his father had somehow saved him even as he condemned Lex to death, but Lionel had never suggested it. No, he only ever defended his actions.

 

"You know my policy on negotiating with kidnappers." So predictable. So disgusting.

 

"Right. You don't." Lex shook his head, shoving his hands into his pockets in an effort to keep them from shaking. He couldn't stop seeing it, couldn't stop hearing his father's voice in the background. Having his father right there only made it worse.

 

"If I'd negotiated with her, every criminal in the country would have known my weakness."

 

"I'm not your weakness, I'm your son." Lex couldn't keep the despair from creeping into his voice. He should have been above all of this; he should have known better than to expect his father to change.

 

"That's right," Lionel said triumphantly, and Lex realized he'd slipped up. Lionel didn't need to use much force to turn Lex around to face him, and once he had, he lifted a hand to Lex's face. And Lex was too weak to turn away. "My only son."

 

It was like being doused in ice-cold water. Lex came to his senses and jerked away from Lionel's touch, his submissive expression replaced by a snarl. "You made sure of that, didn't you?"

 

"Lex, Lex." Everyone was staring. Lex didn't know how he was still in one piece, not with Lionel's eyes burning a hole in him, not with Lionel's body so close Lex's skin was crawling. His voice was so low no one could have hoped to overhear. "I believe you were well aware of the risks when you and your brother conspired against me."

 

"They were supposed to be blanks!" he shouted, jumping back and pointing an accusing finger at his father. The fact that he could blame Lex when Lionel been the one to shoot Lucas was further proof that his father had no conscience. He had no soul. He was evil. There was no other explanation. "You switched the bullets and you killed him! You killed my brother!" He was raving, now, like a madman, and he felt mad. He knew what happened to them, to the ones who accused Lionel of murder in public. They disappeared. They spent the rest of their lives under lock and key, if they lived at all. But Lex was crazed, he was appalled, he knew the truth and he had everything he needed to put his father away from life, except for the fact that his father had money and knowledge, and both were power.

 

"How can I kill someone who never existed, Lex?" Lionel looked at him with an expression so bewildered that if Lex hadn't been there, if he hadn't watched his father take aim and shoot the brother Lex had only known for a month, Lex might have believed him. He might have believed that he was crazy. Lionel smiled calmly at Lex, his eyes full of fire. "I'm afraid that if you continue throwing around accusations like this, I'm going to have to call Claire."

 

The police station was as silent as a tomb. Lex wondered how many of them would still be alive tomorrow, how many of the witnesses Lionel would let live. Selfishly, the only thing Lex cared about was that Lionel was giving him a choice. He could stop now and maybe continue to be a free man, or he could continue ranting and end up with the others his father had driven mad.

 

It would take considerable acting skills, but Lex was sure that he could act well enough to save his own life. He could spend the rest of his life in the asylum of his mind, knowing the truth, knowing that he couldn't share the truth with the world unless he wanted his restraints to be physical.

 

"You're right," Lex said carefully. Victory lit up Lionel's face and Lex knew he'd done more than surrender. He'd damned himself. "I don't know what I'm talking about." Lex forced a weak laugh. Part of him died.

 

"Good boy," Lionel hissed, embracing Lex far too fondly for comfort. "Shall we go?"

 

Lex struggled away from the grip of his father's arms, hoping against hope that this rebellion wouldn't seal his fate. "Actually, Dad, I should get back to campus. I have classes tomorrow." It was a weak excuse, but hopefully it would be sufficient. He tried to read his father's expression. Couldn't.

 

"Very well," Dad finally said. Lex nodded matter-of-factly, doing his best to hold himself together as long as his father was in the room. "Give me a call when your schedule eases up, and we'll talk."

 

"Of course."

 

Lionel's parting grin was full of a silent, triumphant cackle that nearly deafened Lex. He held his father's gaze for as long as he could. Then, when the door clicked shut behind him, Lex emptied the contents of his stomach onto the concrete floor.

 

Time passed. Maybe an eternity. Finally, Lex wiped a hand across his mouth and stood up slowly. He couldn't afford to be distracted by details like betrayal and fear. Dr. Walsh was still missing, and now, the money that had been sent to pay him off was missing, too.

 

Lionel probably had the money by now. It wouldn't have been any more surprising than to find out that Lionel had sent the money in the first place. That, of course, led Lex to question why Lionel would have tried to pay for Dr. Walsh's silence if he'd already had Walsh taken care of. Lex supposed it could have been a diversionary tactic, but if he hadn't been there to sign for the money, no one would have known about it.

 

Which led to the disturbing conclusion that perhaps Lionel wasn't behind Walsh's disappearance at all. Either that, or he was, and someone else was trying to pay him off.

 

Lex had to find the money, and he had to figure out who had sent it. He also needed to question Dr. Swann about the student who had come to Walsh with information about the project he was working on with Lionel. Maybe they were connected; this student and Walsh's disappearance, the stolen money and the note that had come with it about the girl who had been snooping. If they were the same person, then that narrowed Lex's search.

 

Dr. Swann was his only link at the moment. Lex had to get back to the university to talk to Swann. Unfortunately, Lex didn't have a car with him. Nor did he have money for a cab or a way to contact Bruce other than by calling him collect.

 

Odd that Lionel hadn't offered him a ride back to school. That would have given him a chance to check up on Lex, made sure he was going where he claimed to be going. A chance for private conversation and intimidation.

 

Lionel should have offered him a ride. Lex wouldn't have accepted it, of course. But there was something not right about the fact that it hadn't been offered.

 

If Lex thought he'd felt claustrophobic before, that was nothing compared to the steel vise in which he found himself now. Lex struggled in vain to get away, but he couldn't even breathe. No point trying to find his inhaler, but he had to focus on something so he wouldn't panic. He was being crushed to death and the earth was spinning away.

 

Then there was heat.

 

It was more than just the body he was being held against. Lex wasn't sure when he realized the steel bands around his body were arms and the wall blocking his access to oxygen was actually someone's chest. Lex shivered and tried to push away, stilling when he felt the heat at his back.

 

His bonds loosened and Lex was able to look back over his shoulder. Lex stared, fascinated, as the police station exploded into thousands of pieces. He must have been dreaming, or dead, because he'd been there only seconds ago. He had to be dead.

 

But he was very much alive.

 

Bruce himself came out to open the gate. Lex stayed where he'd been deposited by his mysterious savior, who at first Lex had thought was sent to destroy him. He'd been sure that would be his end, this tight steel cage, crushing him to death before he could seek the truth behind Dr. Walsh's disappearance and the money that had been sent for him. Instead, Lex had been rescued from a building he hadn't even known was going to explode.

 

Lex looked up blankly when Bruce came to stand over him. Just a slight shake of Bruce's head, and Lex could imagine what Bruce was thinking, all the questions Bruce wanted to ask. Of course, Bruce, being a minimalist when it came to words, simply offered his hand.

 

Lex could count on one hand the number of times Bruce had initiated a conversation between them. For some reason, though, Bruce had watched over him when he needed watching, supported him when he needed supporting. Even after all the shit with Lionel, Bruce had never abandoned him, no matter how many times Lex asked for favors or insisted he could handle whatever life threw at him. Lex always came crawling back, and Bruce always let him in.

 

Nevertheless, he dropped Bruce's hand as soon as he was standing. Lex brushed himself off and followed Bruce calmly into the house. The calm was no more than a mask, and Lex knew Bruce knew it. His mind was in chaos as he tried to figure out what he would do next. Lionel was still out there, and so was Dr. Walsh. Without the money or the envelope to trace, Lex wasn't sure how he would find Dr. Walsh. His only true recourse was Dr. Swann, and with Lionel probably assuming that Lex was dead, contacting anyone would be very risky now.

 

He expected Bruce to offer him a meal or a bed, possibly both, but Bruce continued his brisk pace toward the den. Ah, of course. Lex smiled to himself. It had been too long since he'd kept civilized company, the kind that kept good scotch around a warm fire. Just what he needed to unwind. Bruce knew him so well. Scotch, a crackling fire, and becoming reacquainted with a man he'd once known so well. Lex lifted a hand to Bruce's shoulder as the door to the den swung open, starving for the touch of someone he could trust. There were so very few people who fit that description. Between Bruce's hospitality, and hopefully, Bruce's body, Lex could use tonight to forget about everything he needed to remember. Tomorrow, he could get back to the mystery at hand.

 

Bruce tipped his shoulder, causing Lex's hand to fall away. Disappointed, but not honestly surprised, Lex slipped his hands back into his pockets. In the course of one day he'd been denied his course schedule, discovered that his research advisor was missing, been arrested for trying to help said research advisor, and almost killed when the police station in which he'd been detained had exploded. He could live with being rejected by Bruce.

 

"Lex." Bruce directed Lex's attention to the leather chair on the opposite side of the room, and for the first time, Lex realized they weren't alone. He blinked rapidly, trying to reconcile the facts he knew with the figure in front of his very eyes. "I believe you know Dr. Walsh." 

 

\---

 

"Do you want the blue copy or the yellow copy?"

 

Lex turned toward the student behind him, the one who had identified herself as Traci Singer during roll call. "It doesn't matter as long as I get a copy and you have your own copy to use as a reference when you're writing your lab report."

 

"When is the lab report due?"

 

Lex sighed. "At the beginning of lab next week, along with your pre-lab." Other students had come up to stand near Traci, some of them diligently writing down Lex's every word, others looking at him skeptically.

 

Lex looked at them just as skeptically. He wasn't convinced that the notes he was about to receive would be as in-depth and comprehensive as possible given the brief amount of time they'd had in today's lab. Nonetheless, Lex returned to the bench at the front of the room and announced that everyone who was finished with his or her lab should turn in one of the copies of their notes. When Heather Mathers started asking which copy of her notes Lex wanted, Lex raised his voice and repeated, "I don't care which copy of your notes I get, just as long as you have a copy and I have a copy. Yes, your notes *will* be graded." If they'd read their syllabus, they would have known that.

 

"Lex?" Tyler Kim, awkwardly tall and skinny, walked up to Lex holding a regular spiral-bound notebook. "I don't have a carbon copy notebook. What do you want me to...?"

 

"For today you can make a copy in the chemistry office - you know where that is, right? - and get those back to me." Then, because he could buy another one for himself later, Lex walked around to the bench drawer where he'd put his own carbon notebook and handed it to Tyler.

 

"But aren't these, like, twenty dollars or something?" Tyler's hands went to his pockets. "I don't have any with me right now..."

 

"Don't worry about it," Lex said with a grin. "It's on the department." It wasn't, technically, but this was something Lex's father would never do. He would never give anything, no matter how trivial, without expecting anything in return. And anything Lex could do to be less like his father was a reward in itself.

\---

Lex fully expected the lab to be empty the moment he received the final set of lab notes, but that turned out not to be the case. Clark was still in the room, taking apart the three-dimensional molecular models and neatly (with an obsessive sort of attention to detail) packing them back into the plastic model kits.

 

"You don't have to do that," Lex informed him. Actually, Clark *shouldn't* be doing that. The students in the next lab were supposed to see the intact models and have the experience of taking them apart before they reached the final part of the lab during which they put together their own models. But Clark didn't know that, and more importantly, Clark was still here.

 

It wasn't important for the same reason it would have been important nearly two hours ago. Instead of being pleased with Clark's presence, Lex wondered why he was drawing attention to himself by remaining in the lab with Lex when everyone else was gone. Not the best way to stay under the radar for a journalist, unless Clark was going to come out and interview him right here and now.

 

Clark just shrugged. "It's okay." He concentrated intensely on the segments he was putting away until Lex's hand closed over his. Then Clark looked up at him, wide eyes even wider behind the glasses. The lenses could have been prescription, but the could just as easily have been fake. It was times like these that Lex resented how paranoid he had to be, all because of his father. Otherwise Lex wouldn't have been wondering whether the lenses were real, or a disguise for a miniature camera.

 

"Don't," Lex said firmly, taking the model away from Clark and putting it back together. It was a relatively simple molecule compared with the ones Lex had studied last year. Snapping the last two pieces in place, Lex returned to his bench to gather all the notes into a manilla envelope, well aware that Clark was watching him with a rather perplexed expression. Lex paused at the door, ready to shut off the lights. "Clark?"

 

Frowning, Clark stepped out into the hallway, and proceeded to stand right there as Lex closed and locked the door. Clark wasn't asking him any questions, but he wasn't leaving, either. "Can I help you?" Lex would have folded his arms over his chest if his hands weren't full.

 

"I... was just wondering..."

 

But a cat seemed to have gotten Clark's tongue, so Lex tucked the manilla folder under one arm and patted Clark on the shoulder with his free hand. Lex might have considered it flirting if he had any reason to think Clark wasn't working for his father or the tabloids. "While I appreciate the sentiment, Clark, I have a lot of work to do. Why don't you send me an email when you figure out what you want to say."

 

Lex acknowledged the silence he received in response with a nod. Turning on his heel, he headed for the stairs, taking them two steps at a time to get to his group's office. There were certainly better things Lex had to do with his time than grade notes, and he'd just as well get it out of the way.

 

Two flights up, Lex looked back over his shoulder, relieved to see that he was alone. Turning into the corridor, he walked the rest of the way to the office in silence. He shared the office with six other teaching assistants, but at the moment Lex was the only one occupying the space, and he was grateful for that. All the better to finish his work in a timely fashion.

 

"Lex?"

 

It wasn't possible. Lex looked up from where he'd just started unraveling the string on the envelope to see Clark standing in the doorway, backpack slipping off his shoulder. Lex had to force his eyes not to shift from Clark to the clock and back again, but he still couldn't stop his mind from replaying the last few moments, calculating the amount of time it'd taken him to climb two flights at a brisk pace and the distance between the stairway and the office. He hadn't even sat down yet and Clark shouldn't have been able to be there so soon. Once again, Lex reminded himself, his brain was playing tricks on him, speeding up time, making precious moments disappear. For a hopeful millisecond, Lex wondered if Clark could have taken the elevator, only to remember that the Bohr building didn't have one.

 

Lex knew he shouldn't let it distress him like this, but his heart sank. Maybe the doctors were right, maybe he needed to be taking medication, but he couldn't risk it. It would be too easy for anyone with the right connections to drug him. And Lex *knew* what they would think if he voiced that concern, so he never did. Fake arrogance could get one so far in certain situations.

 

"How can I help you, Clark?" Dropping the envelope onto the table, Lex rested one hip against the edge of his desk. If nothing else, perhaps talking to Clark could distract him from the rest of his life for a while.

 

"I don't know. I'm not really sure where to start." Clark seemed lost. Lex gestured to the chair at the adjacent desk. When Clark took the hint, pulling out the chair and sitting across from him, Lex sat down in his own chair and faced Clark.

 

"Why don't we start with what you're doing here." For the purposes of the conversation, Lex would act as if Clark's story were true, and try to get as much information as he could without outright demanding to know who Clark was working for. Lex couldn't help smirking when Clark blinked nervously in response to his comment. "Why did you choose Metropolis University?"

 

Oddly enough, Clark blushed, and a shy smile bloomed on his face. Interesting. "I didn't really choose it, it kind of chose me. I got here on a - on a football scholarship." So, Lex had been correct in his initial physical assessment of Clark. "One of my friends in high school got me interested in journalism, so I figured I'd major in it." Clark's smile turned less shy, his expression more nonchalant. Lex imagined him leaning back and studying his fingernails. "But I've been thinking about science. You know, finding out how things work."

 

Nodding, Lex opened the first desk drawer, sifting through a pile of papers and coming up with one that he handed to Clark. He may or may not have been telling the truth, but a love of science was something Lex didn't begrudge anyone. Even a false interest in the subject could lead to respect if not understanding. "The chemistry club has meetings every week, and Alpha Theta Pi is hosting a movie night this Friday."

 

Staring at the list, Clark raised his eyebrows. "What are these, fraternities?"

 

"No," Lex replied patiently, "they're scientific honor societies. But those won't be relevant to you for a few years at least."

 

"You think it'll take me that long?"

 

Lex could tell from the smirk on his face that Clark was playing with him. He wasn't taking any of this seriously, and Lex was quickly losing patience. "I don't know, Clark. How many science credits are you planning on taking this year?"

 

"I don't know," Clark said with another shrug, sounding disappointed. "I should probably go."

 

Lex couldn't figure out what Clark was fishing for to save his life. Which he might have to do if his suspicions were correct. Shrugging himself, Lex turned back to his desk, letting the notes slide out of the envelope. He could feel Clark watching him. Lex didn't answer, he simply ignored Clark, and Clark's hesitation and reluctance were nearly physical. The pull to look at Clark, try to figure out what he was thinking, was so strong that all Lex could do was stare at the papers in front of him without seeing them. It *had* to be attention deficit disorder, because staying this still wasn't supposed to be this hard.

 

"Okay." With that, Clark walked out of the office, and probably out of Lex's life forever.

 

It was probably for the best.

 

-


	2. Chapter 2

The only reason Lex didn't have a headache was that he didn't get headaches. Nevertheless, Lex was convinced that were he prone to headaches, he would have one right now. The grading had taken far longer than he'd hoped, and now he had to drive all the way back to his dorm.

 

When Lex saw the parking ticket on his windshield, he nearly lost it. Fortunately for any passersby who might have gotten in the way of Lex's impending outburst, his hands were full, and he wasn't about to get himself fired his first week on the job. Grinding his teeth, Lex remotely unlocked the car door, tossed the students' papers onto the passenger's side seat, and reached over to pocket the ticket. Someone was going to have to pay for this, and unfortunately, that someone was probably going to have to be Lex.

 

These were the types of things that made Lex wonder, just for a moment, if he'd made the right decision. Having to pay his own parking tickets, having to live in a dorm with other students, having to act responsible. While Lex congratulated himself for being good at overcoming these obstacles, their very existance still annoyed the hell out of them.

 

It would have been so much easier to be living in his own penthouse, taking every bribe Daddy wanted to give him to keep him out of trouble. Stay out of the papers, off the streets, away from LuthorCorp. But Lex refused to belong to anyone, especially his father, and after what had happened three years ago...

 

The only other way would have been to beat his father at his own game, but his father's game was business, and Lex didn't have a mind for business. That was one thing his father had always been right about: Lex always failed because he always let his emotions get in the way. Ironic that the one thing that had kept him from challenging his father corporately no longer seemed to exist. Emotions had been replaced by calculations and paranoia, and Lex was sure he should be over it by now. But he wasn't.

 

Distractions were all he had left. Everything he did was a distraction from something else, even other distractions. Moments when he wasn't looking over his shoulder for people following him or trying to figure out where they could fit cameras were rare, and even rarer were the times when Lex was able to relax. He knew he put on a good face, for the most part, and he seemed perfectly relaxed to most other people. That was because all the chaos was in his mind, where no one can see.

 

Lex didn't even know he'd dialed until he heard the distant ring in his air. Lex leaned back in the driver's seat, relieved when he recognized the voice. If he was going to make a phone call without even realizing it, there was only one person Lex wanted to have on the other line. "Bruce."

 

"What do you need?" Bruce asked immediately, though he sounded distracted too. They both knew that the relationship had dissolved into this, into only calling each other when they needed favors. Bruce called even less frequently now, because Lex had nothing left to offer him.

 

"You could make a parking ticket disappear," Lex mused, but he shrugged, running his fingers over the steering wheel. He needed to pay off his college tuition, he needed a fix, he needed to get away from academia and go... somewhere else. Then he remembered the cause of his nonexistant headache. "I need you to check into someone's background for me."

 

"Who is it this time, Lex?" Bruce sounded weary, and he had every right to, but Lex knew Bruce wouldn't refuse him. "New girlfriend? Boyfriend? Boss? Janitor's second cousin twice removed?"

 

"Very funny, Bruce." It wasn't, of course. Lex closed his eyes. "His name's Clark Kent, claims to be an undergrad on a football scholarship." Not that he wasn't built for it, but that didn't mean it was true. "Journalism major."

 

Lex knew Bruce was going to sigh even before he heard it. "Lex, you can't just check up on every person who shows some interest in journalism or... anything else, Lex, listen to me. If they knew how many people I've looked into for you..."

 

"But they *don't*," Lex reminded him, punching at the steering wheel and scowling when he hit the horn instead. As if he didn't draw enough attention to himself. "And they're not *going* to. If you say one word..."

 

"What, Lex? You'll sic Lionel on me?"

 

"Fuck you," Lex retorted. Bruce knew very well that Lex couldn't do that any more. "Even if I could-"

 

"You wouldn't." Bruce was silent for what seemed like a long time. Not that Lex was one to make that judgment.

 

"What makes you think I was going to say that?"

 

Bruce ignored his indignance. "If I do what you want, Lex, will you do something for me?"

 

Fuck him, Lex thought. Bruce knew Lex didn't have the access to money or connections the way he used to. "What?"

 

"Take care of yourself," he said somberly, and Lex didn't have anything to say to that. He stared at the blinking display on the phone, and wondered when he'd hung up on Bruce.

 

It didn't matter. He'd spent all day playing by the rules. Now it was time to break a few.


	3. Chapter 3

Everybody who was anybody in Metropolis partied at Club Zero. Although its slogan was 'zero consequences', it might as well have beed called 'zero inhibitions', because the atmosphere was one of those 'anything goes' atmospheres, with the disclaimer that in order for anything to go, you had to get in. To get in, you had to be somebody.

 

Nobodies weren't allowed, but for some reason, they still let Lex in. Lex had been a somebody once - when he'd been Lex Luthor, son of Lionel Luthor, and all the privileges that went along with that. He'd had the prestige and money required to frequent a club like Zero, and had done so since he'd discovered it at fifteen years old.

 

At nineteen, he wasn't any more legal than he'd been then, but at least he looked the part. Maybe that was why they still let him through the doors that were blocked to reporters and anyone who wasn't in the top one percent tax bracket. The decor of the club inside wasn't anything to get excited about, but no one went to Zero because it looked impressive. It was the people that made the impressions, and Lex was still popular, even now that he was a Joseph instead of a Luthor.

 

He still wondered why they didn't look at him differently. Technically, he wasn't part of their peer group anymore, but no one seemed phased by it. Which would have been fine with Lex if he could have enjoyed it, but Lex knew himself and knew he needed something to help clear his mind.

 

He found Max on the floor, talking to another bouncer. Lex waited patiently, because things never changed, and if they did tonight he'd be lucky. Max noticed him a few minutes later, and sauntered over to what had once been his best customer. "You're alone tonight," he observed, talking to Lex but keeping his eyes on the rest of the club. That was the way they did things here. Looking the other way.

 

"Not for long," Lex replied optimistically, and reached reluctantly for his wallet. He didn't have the kind of cash he used to be able to throw around, but it ought to be good enough for tonight, if Max still gave him the good stuff. "I need something fast," he said, palming a fifty into Max's hand, "something that *works* this time."

 

There was no visible change in Max's expression, but Lex could tell he was more amused than insulted. Max had always liked him, for some reason. Lex didn't know many other people who could get away with talking to Max like that.

 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Max said, reaching into his own pocket and exchanging the fifty for a couple tabs of something Lex didn't even bother to look at before ingesting them. Max just shook his head, well aware of Lex's behavior despite the fact that his outward attention was on what might turn out to be a brawl at the bar. Or a fuck, but there were back rooms for that.

 

The effect wasn't immediate, so Lex groped for more cash, but Max just sighed and muttered, "Take off, Lex," pushing him away with a casual but firm hand to Lex's shoulder. So Lex started stumbling away, toward the back where the lights were lower and the smell was stronger. Anonymity, sex, and a good high were all Lex wanted tonight.

 

"You look tense."

 

Lex slid his eyes over to the voice. Anywhere else his first thought would've been a whore, but he had to remind himself that this was Zero, and whores were more nobodies than Lex was. A beguiling smile slid over Lex's lips as he took in the stranger who Lex knew nothing about other than that he was a somebody. "What are you going to do about it?"

 

He knew it was working when he could feel every stray grain of powder biting into his skin, the only deviation from the smoothness of the glass under his bare back. Time-space continuum wasn't working so well but then, it never did, and right now the room was swelling and his cock was in some guy's mouth. Groaning, Lex gripped the edges of the table, fingers slipping slick with sweat, squeaking against the glass but Lex was pretty sure he was the only one hearing it.

 

Coming was seeing stars, over too soon and then his legs were being pushed up, strong hands on his hips dragging him to the edge of the table. Slick fingers pushed inside and Lex grabbed at the table, fumbling for purchase or balance any way he could find them. It was working, dammit. All he could think about was the cock in his ass/the hands on his hips/the glass on his skin/the colors in the room, seductively caressing him and easing his thoughts into numbness.

 

Lex hadn't felt this good in a long time, hadn't *needed* to feel this good in a long time and it was fucking good thing he was high because that meant he wasn't thinking about why he needed it. All that mattered was rock hard cock pounding him closer and closer to oblivion, prostate, silver sparks, fingers that would leave bruises. Pain that made him feel alive again, erased the numbness of the soul and replaced it with numbness of his mind. All body and no mind, that was Lex's favorite place to be.

 

It was the only time he let himself scream.


	4. Chapter 4

There was nothing so comforting as waking up alone in his own bed, and nothing more discomforting than having the feeling that someone was watching him. Lex blinked his eyes open, and as they adjusted to the low light of his dorm room, Lex recognized a figure leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest.

 

The drugs must have been better than he'd thought. Why else would he have brought his fuck back to his dorm? That wasn't his style, not his style at all.

 

"Well, I see you're finally awake," the man said, pushing off from the door and reaching for a leather jacket. "See ya."

 

Lex had him pinned up against the door in a matter of seconds, despite the fact that he wasn't wearing any clothes. It would have been one thing if the guy had left during the night, or at least been in bed with Lex when he'd woken up, but this wasn't right. Being watched during his sleep, that wasn't right.

 

"Who are you working for?" he demanded, knowing full well that the only thing he was accomplishing was potentially alienating yet another acquaintance. It happened all too often but it was the only way to stay safe.

 

"I'm not working for anyone," the guy said impatiently, pushing Lex away and straightening out his shirt. "Just doing a favor for a friend."

 

"Fucking me and spying on me is a favor?" Lex considered himself to be fairly intelligent most of the time, but this wasn't making any sense. Which meant that either Lex was missing something, or the guy was lying.

 

"Take a pill." It was certainly due to Lex's lack of familiarity with slang when he looked at the hand held up in front of him and expected there to pill there, if only for a split second. But the hand was only there to keep Lex from attacking again, and he realized it was probably not the dumbest idea in the world to protect oneself from a raving madman. "Max just wanted me to make sure you were okay."

 

"Max?" Max wouldn't do this to him, would he? Max knew there were very few people Lex trusted, and he'd thought Max would honor that. "He told you where I live?"

 

"No, you did. After you tried to thank Max for his hospitality."

 

"I what?"

 

The guy laughed. "You came onto Max in front of everyone at Zero, asking how best you could repay him for - how did you put it - 'the best shit I've had in my life', I believe. I don't think you can blame Max for wanting to make sure you got yourself home safe."

 

Lex didn't even know where to start. The story, if true, was further proof that the drugs were, in fact, better than Lex had thought, and if false, Lex wouldn't be able to disprove it without first humiliating himself. Great.

 

He wasn't even going to consider the fact that Max had sent a babysitter with Lex because he cared. He knew full well why Max had done this, if in fact he had. Max didn't want Lex's big mouth getting Zero in the papers or on the police radar, and that was why Lex had been under observation until he came out of it. Now in addition to his father's people and cameras, Lex was going to have to worry about Max's people. Great. Just great. And shit.

 

"No one can blame Max for anything." Except for giving him the drugs, which Lex had specifically asked for. One-tenth of the law, indeed. "What's in it for you?"

 

"Now, Lex, that's a rather naive question, don't you think?" Lex easily recognized the disguised bitterness in his companion's voice. "The real question is, what do I have to lose if I don't do what Max asks?"

 

He brought up a good point, Lex thought. Good enough that he wasn't going to press any further. "And what do you have to lose?"

 

"Same thing you do, Lex. My name, my inheritance, you name it."

 

"I'm not a Luthor anymore." Lex felt obligated to clear that up from the beginning. "I didn't lose my name and inheritance, I *chose* to walk away from it. *What* do you have to lose?"

 

The man stepped very close, his voice low and next to Lex's ear. "Royce Industries," he hissed. Lex pulled back with an impressed, if skeptical, smile.

 

"You're Jackson Royce's son," he exclaimed.

 

Royce nodded and extended his hand. "But you can call me Jude."

 

 

\---

 

Lex ignored Jude's hand. "Aren't you engaged?" he asked smugly. Lex may have been angry when he found out what his father did to his mother, but that didn't change the fact that he now had blackmail material against the son of one of the most powerful corporate players in Metropolis. Opportunities like this were few and far between ever since Lex had publicly removed himself from his father's world.

 

Jude's pleased expression dimmed, but he ignored the charge and tossed Lex's pants at him. "Get dressed," he demanded. Lex simply raised his eyebrows. "You're disgusting."

 

"*I'm* disgusting?" Lex laughed incredulously. "And what do you think your fiancee would think about you if she discovered how you spend your nights? What did you tell her, Jude?" Lex paused, watching as Jude stalked closer. "You were working late at the office?"

 

"She better not find out, Luthor," Jude growled, shoving Lex against the door and pinning him there with an arm under his chin. Lex knew he would get away. He just had to breathe first.

 

"I'm not a Luthor!" At this point, Lex didn't give a fuck if anyone heard them. He was just sick of having to explain this fact over and over. "Is that why you fucked me? Because I'm a Luthor?" It made more sense than anything else. Breathing was getting harder with Jude's arm there. Lex took a few ragged breaths, then snapped his head forward, butting against Jude's forehead. He probably didn't need to resort to such painful measures to get away, but dammit, he was pissed off. "Even though you find me so *disgusting*?" After all, it wasn't like it hadn't happened before.

 

"Fuck you," Jude moaned, holding his arm across his head. "Do you know who the fuck I am?" Lex supposed that was supposed to be some kind of threat, but he didn't respond. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his throat. All things considered, it was nice to actually be in pain for once. Better than waiting for it. Lex's thought were more focused for once; no need to be paranoid when the threat was standing right in front of him. Good for a change. "I don't give a fuck what your last name is, Lex. Amanda finds out about this, I'll make sure you lose *everything*."

 

Lex raised his head, and wondered if the smile on his face was as hysterical as it felt. "Don't you get it, Jude?" Jude watched him suspiciously. Said nothing. "I have nothing left to lose." It was such a brave and stupid thing to say, because a man with nothing to lose was a man who had no reason not to stab anyone in the back. And if Jude believed him, which Lex wasn't sure he did, he'd have another reason to sleep with one eye open. Both of them would.

 

But Lex was already sleeping with one eye open. He had been for the last three years.

 

He wondered if, eventually, he would stop sleeping altogether.


	5. Chapter 5

After Jude had huffed out that morning (and really, he was as much of a drama queen as Lex had heard the senior Royce could be), the rest of the day had turned out to be uneventful. At least, uneventful if you were Lex-formerly-Luthor, which Lex was. His three graduate-level classes were finished by three in the afternoon, followed by an hour of scheduled tutoring during which Lex did his homework because, just as Lex had expected, no students showed up to be tutored.

 

All in all, graduate school was turning out to be as tedious as any period of training should be. Fortunately for Lex, whose mind tended to wander into even deeper waters of paranoia and conspiracy when not entertained, he had another lab to teach on Wednesday. Two labs a week was hardly going to be enough to keep him busy, but soon the lab reports would start pouring in and grading those would add another hour or so to his schedule. And next month, Lex would be allowed to begin the formality of interviewing faculty from whom he would choose his research advisor.

 

Not that it all wasn't a big waste of time. Lex already knew which professor was going to take the title of mentor while Lex continued his research. There was the issue of funding and, for most students, their research would consist of the professor's research, but Lex had something they didn't. It wasn't money, not anymore, but he had an established presence. Even former Luthors got special treatment, and when it came to Lex's research, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 

His research. That was really the only reason he was here at all. The university had the resources that even Lex's father couldn't hope to obtain, and it was all out in the open. No secret projects, no paying off of federal employees, no mysteriously disappearing human and animal subjects. Not everything at the university was done by the books, but it was a hell of a lot more legitimate than the laboratories at LuthorCorp.

 

After his noon class in the earth sciences building, Lex had one hour to get to the labs in the chemistry department, write everything on the board, and make sure everything in the lab was in order. If the TA before him had taken the time to clean up and leave the models as they should be, he wouldn't have a problem meeting the deadline. And even if he did, Lex was very good at improvising.

 

"Lex, I'm sorry." Lex blinked up at Dr. Arigi, who was opening a model kit on the first bench. None of the other kits were opened, nor were any of the models constructed. "No one remembered to tell Matt to keep the models together after he left the meeting early last week."

 

Not saying a word in response, Lex got right to work on constructing one of the other models. Dr. Arigi was working on a carvone, so Lex started on the isoamyl acetate. No identical models in one lab.

 

Dr. Arigi was saying something. "Sorry?"

 

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it, Lex. I'm going to have to hire someone to set up the labs beforehand. I'm not going to have time for this every week. Not you," she said before Lex could offer. "Someone who's not a TA."

 

Of course, no one thought he'd be able to handle it. Five classes, two labs, but what they didn't realize was that he had nothing else. Just time and a harried mind.

 

"I can do it," he insisted, if only for the record. Maybe Dr. Arigi would be more easily convinced if he implied that his poverty required a second job.

 

"Sorry, Lex. University policy."

 

Bullshit, Lex thought, but didn't say anything. It was an easy answer, one Dr. Arigi had to know he could see right through. She just didn't want him overextending himself and taking the blame when he couldn't live up to his commitments. He could, of course. But no one thought he could. They all thought he was just an overachieving rich man's son who would get tired of his latest rebellion soon enough.

 

One day, Lex was going to prove all of them wrong.


	6. Chapter 6

Jude wasn't at Zero that night. But Lex didn't go in order to see Jude; he went because he had something to prove. He had to prove that he was still a part of that subculture, and he had to prove that he wasn't intimidated by Jude's threats. He also had to protect himself against a morning-after incident like the one he'd had with Jude, so he didn't buy anything from Max. As a result, the night was mostly a waste. The next morning, Lex figured that since he'd managed to not get laid at Zero of all places, things couldn't possibly get worse.

 

He was wrong. When he tried to gain admittance to his nine a.m. class, he was denied.

 

"The dean hasn't approved your request to add this course," Dr. Lee informed him. "He wants to see you."

 

"The dean?" Lex hadn't thought the dean had to approve anything unless it was after the two week mark. "You mean..."

 

Dr. Lee nodded. "Dr. Swann. Here." Dr. Lee handed him a printout of an email. "He's giving a seminar in Rosetta this morning. He reserved time in his schedule to meet with you immediately following the seminar. He says to be there at ten o'clock sharp."

 

"Rosetta?" Lex repeated, dumbfounded. "But that's the foreign language building. He's the dean of the Department of Earth and Space Sciences."

 

Dr. Lee shrugged and turned to start writing on blackboard. "Dr. Swann occassionally volunteers to be part of a special lecture series on foreign languages," he explained. "He tutors several of the international students and professors with their English as well."

 

Lex stared at the printout in his hand. "How does he have time?"

 

"No one knows how he does it," Dr. Lee said with a grin. He reached for the door, about to close it and start the lecture from the looks of the time. "He must be a genius like you."

 

That was the first time Lex smiled in two days.


	7. Chapter 7

Dr. Swann's specialty was in dead languages. He'd been a vital participant in the translation of several documents as well as murals drawn on cave walls, all in languages that had few or no ties to living languages. Language, Dr. Swann explained, was more than letters and words. In addition to being a form of communication within a culture, it was also an extension of the culture it represented. Using these clues along with logic and mathematics, any language was decipherable.

 

Nearly an hour had passed before Lex remembered to be irritated by Dr. Swann's failure to approve his schedule. That fact itself irritated Lex a little when he realized he'd let down his guard. Without drugs, even. But Swann's presentation had been so cohesive and comprehensive that Lex had been drawn in, fascinated by everything he had to say.

 

Lex was the last to remain in the lecture hall when the seminar and question session were finished. Dr. Swann, seeming not to notice him, reached for something under the desk before stepping out from behind the podium.

 

Actually, limping was probably a more appropriate word. Dr. Swann limped out from behind the podium, leaning heavily on the cane in his right hand. "Lex," he began, much to Lex's surprise, "do you think you could help me with these papers?" Recovering quickly, Lex shouldered his backpack, stuffed the printout of the email in his pocket, and trotted down the steps to pick up Dr. Swann's notes from the desk.

 

Dr. Swann moved quickly for a man with a limp. He spoke slowly, though, spending the entire walk to his office recounting how he'd helped name the language center Rosetta. Lex didn't have to be a foreign language major to know the significance of the name. Swann may have been a genius, but he was also a *bore*.

 

"Have a seat." As directed, Lex took a seat, leaning forward to place the notes on Dr. Swann's desk. While he was leaning over the desk, Lex's eyes flickered over the other papers, and he tried to glean as much as he could from his brief glance. "Sit up, Lex." Caught, Lex sat back in his seat, wondering what was going to happen next. Swann didn't miss anything. "This isn't your father's boardroom."

 

Swann's final statement caught Lex by surprise. He turned to look at the dean, who made his way to the chair behind the desk, unconcerned. Lex started to wonder if he'd met Dr. Swann before.

 

But Swann got right down to business. "Lex, unfortunately, I'm unable to approve the schedule you submitted. Four courses is the maximum allowed for a teaching assistant, and with your other commitments I wouldn't advise more than three this semester."

 

"You're not my advisor," Lex said stiffly. "And what do you know about my other commitments?"

 

Swann was unperturbed despite Lex's suspicious tone. "You need to start thinking about research advisors."

 

"But I already know-"

 

"I know you wanted to continue your research with Dr. Walsh," Swann interrupted. "I'm afraid that's not going to be possible."

 

"Not possible?" Lex jumped abruptly from his chair. The threatening stance he took in front of Swann's desk wasn't entirely intentional, but might serve its purpose. "Why isn't it possible?" he asked dangerously.

 

Swann simply gazed at him for several moments. "Sit down, Lex." Lex glared until it became clear that Swann was not about to be intimidated. He reached back for the arms of the chair to steady himself before he sat down. He *had* to continue his research with Dr. Walsh. There was no other option. "I'm afraid that Dr. Walsh is unreachable."

 

"Unreachable?" Swann nodded. "I just talked to him two weeks ago."

 

"I know, Lex." Dr. Swann seemed to know an awful lot about him. Not for the first time, Lex wondered if Swann worked for his father. "He seems to have disappeared."

 

\---

Disappeared. The word seemed to echo in the room, even in the cacophony of Lex's mind. How many people had dissapeared - test subjects, students, LuthorCorp lab directors and vice presidents - in his lifetime? Too many to count, and as far as Lex knew, all the disappearances could be traced back to one person.

 

Lex's father.

 

"No one has heard from him for six days," Swann continued, and Lex looked up at the mention of such a specific time frame. "I was the last to talk to him. Dr. Walsh called to let me know about a possible breakthrough in his research. A student had approached him with information about a classified project he'd been working on with Lionel Luthor." Lex's gaze narrowed sharply. "As I was talking with him, the phone line went dead. By the time I got to his office, there was nothing except for a note taped to his door."

 

"The phone was tapped." Lex swung his head up, eyes darting from one corner of the room to the other, the vents and the phone line. Unlike others who had observed him doing this, Dr. Swann didn't look at him like he was crazy.

 

"This office is clean," Swann tried to assure him, but Lex shook his head. You could never know. "It's swept every week."

 

While it was somewhat comforting that Swann, too, was paranoid, that didn't mean he could trust whoever swept the room. Besides, how did he know Swann wasn't lying to gain his empathy and trust? "What did the note say?"

 

"See for yourself," Swann offered, nodding at the door to his office. "It's still there."

 

It was only a short walk down two corridors to reach Dr. Walsh's office, which made Lex wonder at the resources that would have been needed to clear it in such a short amount of time without any witnesses. Lex knew the route by heart; Walsh's office had been a second home to him during the final two years of his undergraduate at the university. It had been a lucky break to find out that Dr. Walsh was interested in the same research Lex had wanted to pursue independently of his father. Dr. Walsh had never seen his age, only his mind, and had spent hours devising and executing experiments in which they collected more data than Lex could have hoped to obtain on his own.

 

Everything was gone. The three-dimensional models, the disorganized piles of paper that only Walsh and Lex knew their way through, the poster of Einstein behind Walsh's desk. Nothing remained except for a note informing the public that Walsh's classes and labs had been cancelled.

 

This wasn't right.

 

"Excuse me?" Lex looked up at the unfamiliar voice. A courier stood in the doorway, holding a clipboard and a thick white envelope. "Are you Dr. Walsh?"

 

Lex considered lying, but it could be a test. Or someone who wanted to kill Walsh. "No, but I'm his research assistant." It had been true last semester, and it would be true as soon as he located Walsh again. "I can take that," he said, holding out his hands.

 

"I don't know," the courier said hesitantly. "I'm only supposed to let Dr. Walsh sign for it."

 

"It's okay." Lex smiled reassuringly. "I have his permission to sign for him." The courier looked doubtful, but Lex was too quick for him to respond, signing the clipboard in Walsh's name and taking the envelope. There was no return address. "I'm sorry, who was this from again?"

 

"I - I have to go." And go he did, leaving Lex standing in the middle of the empty room with an envelope lacking a return address.

 

Lex turned the envelope over, and sliced through the paper with his keys.

 

The envelope was full of cash. Hundred-dollar bills, and Lex knew Dr. Walsh wasn't the kind to take bribes. His research was as important to him as it was to Lex, and if he'd been getting a grant, it would have arrived in the form of a check. Not cash. Never cash.

 

There was a note inside.

 

_The girl has been snooping,_ it read. _*Make sure she doesn't learn anything._


	8. Chapter 8

Dr. Walsh's primary lab was adjacent to his office, but it too was empty. There was another lab on the other wing of the building. Lex only hoped his key would still work.

 

It didn't. The locks had been changed. Not surprising, but even if he were able to get in, Lex suspected he wouldn't have found anything anyway.

 

He considered the possibility that the door was locked because there was something to find inside, but any idiot could pick a lock. There had to be something, though, some evidence of what had happened or who had been there. All he had was an envelope full of enough money to buy himself another life - and one of luxury - anywhere he wanted, but he had no way of knowing whether it was safe. Money could be marked. Money clips could be tracking devices.

 

"I need a lab," he told Bruce as he strode down the corridor back toward Dr. Swann's office. He had no idea how long he'd been gone, but he couldn't trust Swann to help him. He couldn't trust anyone besides Bruce.

 

"When?"

 

Swann's door was closed, but it opened easily. Among the disarray of papers on his desk, there was a fresh post-it informing Lex that Swann had had a class to teach and that Lex should submit his new schedule to Swann's mailbox. Lex turned over cell to see how much time he'd lost this time, grinding his teeth when he saw that it had been three hours. Where did his time go? Really, where did it go?

 

He heard the distant sound of Bruce's voice, and only then did he realize that Bruce was still on the line. "As soon as possible," he replied, interrupting Bruce in the middle of a mild-mannered threat to Lex's well-being.

 

"I'll send a driver," Bruce answered tiredly. "Don't do anything stupid."

 

"Who, me?"

 

Bruce hung up on him.

 

\---

 

Dr. Swann wasn't a stupid man. Considering his job title, that was probably to be expected. But it was as if he'd seen Lex coming. Despite the massive clutter of papers throughout the office and the files readily available on his computer, none of them were of any use to Lex. The information he found was important - to other people. Not to him.

 

After hours of fruitless searching, the door to Dr. Swann's office burst open. Wondering why Swann would make such a dramatic entrance, Lex spun around, only to get a brief glimpse at two armed men before they pushed him around so he couldn't see their faces. His heart hammering in his chest, Lex demanded to know what was going on.

 

"Alexander Joseph, you're under arrest for the possession of stolen property." Lex was sure that was what he'd heard, but it didn't make any sense. Not until they started searching him and triumphantly removed the envelope full of money from his pocket. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you." So, maybe it had been a bad idea to sign for the package. Was Dr. Walsh receiving stolen money? He wouldn't do that, not knowingly.

 

Lex grunted as they yanked his arms behind his back and cuffed him, reading him the rest of his rights. Well, this was just perfect. Lex Luthor could have demanded that they let him go, asked if they knew who his father was, but Alexander Joseph didn't have that privilege. Hell, it was probably his father who was behind all this. Kidnapping Walsh because of whatever information he had that would be dangerous for LuthorCorp's PR and setting Lex up to be taken away before he could learn anything incriminating - or maybe he was going to be delivered to his father. That would be just like him to try and bargain Lex back into his life.

 

Well, that wasn't going to happen. Lex wasn't going to be his father's plaything again. He'd been manipulated enough times, he'd had enough encounters with people he'd thought were his friends only to find out they were working for his father. He wasn't going to go through with that again. One of these days, his father was going to learn to leave him well enough alone.

 

\---

It wasn't the first time Lex had been arrested, but it was the first time he'd been arrested as Alexander Joseph. Which, considering the fact that he'd been Alexander Joseph for over two years now, was pretty impressive.

 

His father's appearance at the station was neither surprising nor welcome. Lex ignored him for as long as he could, but Dad just stood there, staring at him with that penetrating gaze. It was the first time Lex had seen his father in three years; nevertheless, he told himself that he was only acknowledging his father's presence to make his cellmates shut up.

 

"Lionel," Lex said stiffly as he stood across from his father on the other side of the bars, angry at himself for having to quell the instinct to call him Dad. A lot of time had passed but apparently he was still susceptible to the idea that blood relations should love one another. Lex took a steadying breath, trying to appear calm when his insides were in turmoil. He hadn't thought it was possible to love someone and hate them at the same time. Apparently, he was wrong.

 

"Son." Dad's tone was arrogant and condescending, just like it had been last time they'd talked. It should have been the final time.

 

"I'm not your son," Lex spat, indignance the only thing that gave him the courage to look his father in the eye. Instinct made him itch to grab the bars and draw himself up to his father's eye level, attempt to intimidate him. The need to keep his distance kept him from doing so.

 

The chuckle came from low in his father's throat, made a shiver curl up Lex's spine. When Dad spoke, he lowered his voice and his face, bringing himself closer to Lex. "You can't change who you are by changing your name," he admonished, narrowing his eyes at Lex. "You are still my son. Guards," he called, and stepped back from the bars.

 

Lex stood there in shock when they unlocked and opened the gate. So, Dad had taken care of his bail, probably managed to get all the charges dropped too. While Lex wasn't sure his testimony that he *hadn't known it was stolen property* would hold up, he wasn't about to indebt himself to his father. Not after everything that had happened.

 

"Mr. Joseph?"

 

The guards were indicating that Lex should step out of the cell. Lex refused. He ignored them and stared at his father. "I can't believe you did this."

 

Lex's father took advantage of the lack of bars between them now, stepping close enough that Lex could feel breath on his face. Lex turned his head away, averting his gaze. "All I've ever wanted is to protect you, Lex. Is a father not allowed to protect his son?"

 

"The only thing I need protection from is you!" he yelled, faltering back a step to look up into his father's face. "You spy on me, you pay people to be my friends, to be..."

 

"Lex," Lionel said sharply, glancing over Lex's shoulder. Lex knew what this was about; Dad didn't want Lex to say anything that would hurt his reputation. Because it was always about that, wasn't it? Dad's reputation, his good name, the appearance of being a good citizen and a good father. The fact that he was actually neither of those things only mattered as long as no one knew. Those who knew the truth were made to disappear before they could enlighten the rest of society. Lex hadn't been made to disappear yet, but that didn't mean his father wasn't trying. "I'm not going to discuss this in front of..."

 

"No! I'm not going to play the good son anymore!" Lex clenched his hands into fists, struggling to keep them at his sides. There had to be something wrong with him if he couldn't hit his father, not after everything his father had done. "If I'd wanted to fight with you I would've stayed! Why did you think I left, Dad? I don't care what you do with your life as long as you stay out of *mine*." Feeling somehow calmer, Lex stepped back into his father's personal space, glowering up at him. "You come back into my life, you don't get to decide what we do and do not discuss."

 

"Not. Here," Lionel snarled into Lex's ear. He clamped a hand on Lex's shoulder and continued leaning in. His voice softened into what Lex assumed was supposed to be a soothing tone, but it grated on his every nerve. "You don't want to do this, Lex. Trust me. It will be easier for all of us if you come back to the penthouse and we can discuss this after you have a clearer head."

 

The walls started closing in around him until Lex realized it was just the guards, bodily escorting him out of the cell and slamming the gate shut, re-locking it. Apparently they wouldn't hold him if he wasn't officially under arrest anymore.

 

Maybe they would re-arrest him for assault if he clocked his father like he really wanted to. "I'm not going with you," he seethed. Unfortunately, he didn't know *where* he was going to go. He had no money on him to get a cab back to the university. He could try to call Bruce, if he could manage to get some change for the pay phone. If he could manage to get his father to leave.

 

"That would be unwise, Son."

 

Lex knew a threat when he heard it. It wasn't clear exactly *what* his father was threatening, but it didn't matter. Lex had been through hell and back, and anything his father tried to do to him couldn't make things any worse.

 

"Don't worry, Dad. I'm not going to let anyone overhear." As much as it disgusted Lex to do so, he clamped a hand on his father's shoulder, leaning up to whisper in his ear. "I'm not the one who belongs here, and you know it. You are. I should be *dead*."

 

"But you're not," Lionel said calmly. Yes; unfortunately, that was the truth, even if Lex didn't have the vaguest idea *how* he was alive.

 

"God knows why," Lex murmured, and pulled away. He'd tried for years not to think about it, not to remember the sheer terror of watching an axe hurtling toward his face, the relief when its path was diverted, and the numbing pain when it sliced through his wrist. Lex rubbed his hand over the scar that still remained, encircling his wrist, a constant reminder of the last day he'd considered himself his father's son. Turning back, Lex confronted his father with a baffled look, still needing to understand even though it didn't matter. "You claim you want to protect me, but you're the reason this happened." Lex shoved his wrist in his father's face for evidence. "She would have killed me if... if..." And that was one sentence he still didn't know how to complete, even to this day. Part of him hoped that his father had somehow saved him even as he condemned Lex to death, but Lionel had never suggested it. No, he only ever defended his actions.

 

"You know my policy on negotiating with kidnappers." So predictable. So disgusting.

 

"Right. You *don't*." Lex shook his head, shoving his hands into his pockets in an effort to keep them from shaking. He couldn't stop seeing it, couldn't stop hearing his father's voice in the background. Having his father right there only made it worse.

 

"If I'd negotiated with her, every criminal in the country would have known my weakness."

 

"I'm not your weakness, I'm your *son*." Lex couldn't keep the despair from creeping into his voice. He should have been above all of this; he should have known better than to expect his father to change.

 

"That's right," Lionel said triumphantly, and Lex realized he'd slipped up. Lionel didn't need to use much force to turn Lex around to face him, and once he had, he lifted a hand to Lex's face. And Lex was too weak to turn away. "My only son."

 

It was like being doused in ice-cold water. Lex came to his senses and jerked away from Lionel's touch, his submissive expression replaced by a snarl. "You made sure of that, didn't you?"

 

"Lex, Lex." Everyone was staring. Lex didn't know how he was still in one piece, not with Lionel's eyes burning a hole in him, not with Lionel's body so close Lex's skin was crawling. His voice was so low no one could have hoped to overhear. "I believe you were well aware of the risks when you and your brother conspired against me."

 

"They were supposed to be blanks!" he shouted, jumping back and pointing an accusing finger at his father. The fact that he could blame Lex when *Lionel* been the one to shoot Lucas was further proof that his father had no conscience. He had no soul. He was evil. There was no other explanation. "You switched the bullets and you killed him! You killed my brother!" He was raving, now, like a madman, and he felt mad. He knew what happened to them, to the ones who accused Lionel of murder in public. They disappeared. They spent the rest of their lives under lock and key, if they lived at all. But Lex was crazed, he was appalled, he knew the truth and he had everything he needed to put his father away from life, except for the fact that his father had money and knowledge, and both were power.

 

"How can I kill someone who never existed, Lex?" Lionel looked at him with an expression so bewildered that if Lex hadn't been there, if he hadn't watched his father take aim and shoot the brother Lex had only known for a month, Lex might have believed him. He might have believed that he was crazy. Lionel smiled calmly at Lex, his eyes full of fire. "I'm afraid that if you continue throwing around accusations like this, I'm going to have to call Claire."

 

The police station was as silent as a tomb. Lex wondered how many of them would still be alive tomorrow, how many of the witnesses Lionel would let live. Selfishly, the only thing Lex cared about was that Lionel was giving him a choice. He could stop now and maybe continue to be a free man, or he could continue ranting and end up with the others his father had driven mad.

 

It would take considerable acting skills, but Lex was sure that he could act well enough to save his own life. He could spend the rest of his life in the asylum of his mind, knowing the truth, knowing that he couldn't share the truth with the world unless he wanted his restraints to be physical.

 

"You're right," Lex said carefully. Victory lit up Lionel's face and Lex knew he'd done more than surrender. He'd damned himself. "I don't know what I'm talking about." Lex forced a weak laugh. Part of him died.

 

"Good boy," Lionel hissed, embracing Lex far too fondly for comfort. "Shall we go?"

 

Lex struggled away from the grip of his father's arms, hoping against hope that this rebellion wouldn't seal his fate. "Actually, Dad, I should get back to campus. I have classes tomorrow." It was a weak excuse, but hopefully it would be sufficient. He tried to read his father's expression. Couldn't.

 

"Very well," Dad finally said. Lex nodded matter-of-factly, doing his best to hold himself together as long as his father was in the room. "Give me a call when your schedule eases up, and we'll talk."

 

"Of course."

 

Lionel's parting grin was full of a silent, triumphant cackle that nearly deafened Lex. He held his father's gaze for as long as he could. Then, when the door clicked shut behind him, Lex emptied the contents of his stomach onto the concrete floor.


	9. Chapter 9

Bruce himself came out to open the gate. Lex stayed where he'd been deposited by his mysterious savior, who at first Lex had thought was sent to destroy him. He'd been sure that would be his end, this tight steel cage, crushing him to death before he could seek the truth behind Dr. Walsh's disappearance and the money that had been sent for him. Instead, Lex had been rescued from a building he hadn't even known was going to explode.

 

Lex looked up blankly when Bruce came to stand over him. Just a slight shake of Bruce's head, and Lex could imagine what Bruce was thinking, all the questions Bruce wanted to ask. Of course, Bruce, being a minimalist when it came to words, simply offered his hand.

 

Lex could count on one hand the number of times Bruce had initiated a conversation between them. For some reason, though, Bruce had watched over him when he needed watching, supported him when he needed supporting. Even after all the shit with Lionel, Bruce had never abandoned him, no matter how many times Lex asked for favors or insisted he could handle whatever life threw at him. Lex always came crawling back, and Bruce always let him in.

 

Nevertheless, he dropped Bruce's hand as soon as he was standing. Lex brushed himself off and followed Bruce calmly into the house. The calm was no more than a mask, and Lex knew Bruce knew it. His mind was in chaos as he tried to figure out what he would do next. Lionel was still out there, and so was Dr. Walsh. Without the money or the envelope to trace, Lex wasn't sure how he would find Dr. Walsh. His only true recourse was Dr. Swann, and with Lionel probably assuming that Lex was dead, contacting anyone would be very risky now.

 

He expected Bruce to offer him a meal or a bed, possibly both, but Bruce continued his brisk pace toward the den. Ah, of course. Lex smiled to himself. It had been too long since he'd kept civilized company, the kind that kept good scotch around a warm fire. Just what he needed to unwind. Bruce knew him so well.

 

Scotch, a crackling fire, and becoming reacquainted with a man he'd once known so well. Lex lifted a hand to Bruce's shoulder as the door to the den swung open, starving for the touch of someone he could trust. There were so very few people who fit that description. Between Bruce's hospitality, and hopefully, Bruce's body, Lex could use tonight to forget about everything he needed to remember. Tomorrow, he could get back to the mystery at hand.

 

Bruce tipped his shoulder, causing Lex's hand to fall away. Disappointed, but not honestly surprised, Lex slipped his hands back into his pockets. In the course of one day he'd been denied his course schedule, discovered that his research advisor was missing, and been arresting for trying to help said research advisor. He could live with being rejected by Bruce.

 

"Lex." Bruce directed Lex's attention to the leather chair on the opposite side of the room, and for the first time, Lex realized they weren't alone. He blinked rapidly, trying to reconcile the facts he knew with the figure in front of his very eyes. "I believe you know Dr. Walsh."

 

\---

Impossible. Dr. Walsh was missing. He had been for six days, according to Dr. Swann, and Lex had taken the fall for stolen property Walsh should have received. Lex narrowed his eyes, trying to decide which one of them he should be angry at. Dr. Walsh for not contacting Lex and letting him know he was going to disappear, or Bruce for not informing him that there was no need to investigate Dr. Walsh's disappearance. If either of them had said something, none of this would have happened. Lex wouldn't have had to spend the day in jail, nor would he have had to face his father again. He wouldn't have had to risk his life, either.

 

Once again, he'd been rescued from certain death, and Lex knew neither the reason nor the person - could it really be a person? - that had spared his life.

 

"Lex," Dr. Walsh began before Lex could say anything, "we expected you back two hours ago. What happened?"

 

"That's what I'd like to know." Lex turned his accusing gaze on Bruce, who was casually taking a seat behind his desk. "Weren't you the least bit concerned as to why I wasn't there when your driver showed up and couldn't find me?"

 

"Don't ask, don't tell, Lex. Hasn't that always been the way you work?"

 

Lex leveled a glare at Bruce, then turned toward his one time research advisor. "Dr. Walsh," he said slowly, "I'm glad to see that you're alive and well. However, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate a word alone with Mr. Wayne."

 

Dr. Walsh looked nervously between Lex and Bruce. At a nod from Bruce, Dr. Walsh pushed himself up from the chair and stepped quietly from the den. Lex paced back and forth in front of Bruce's desk.

 

"Why didn't you tell me he was here?"

 

"You're smarter than that, Lex," Bruce replied dryly. "It was for his own safety."

 

"What about *my* safety, Bruce? Did you ever think about that?" Lex stalked to Bruce's desk, bracing himself with his hands clenching the edge. "You had to know I'd be looking for him."

 

"And then you would have come to me," Bruce said matter-of-factly. "Which you did." Folding his right hand over his left on the desk, Bruce looked mildly up at Lex. "You were never in any danger."

 

"Never in any..." Lex shook his head, incredulous. "I was *arrested*. My *father* threatened to send me to *Belle Reve* if I didn't keep my mouth shut. And then the building I was in *exploded*. I shouldn't be *alive*, Bruce."

 

Bruce didn't even blink. He stared at Lex. Then he pushed back from the desk, swiveled around in his chair, opened the doors on the cabinet behind the desk, and turned on the television. The story was just breaking on the evening news.

 

Bruce steepled his hands together, resting his chin on the tips of his fingers. After several minutes of this, he finally turned around to face Lex again. "I'm going to find out who did this, Lex." Bruce said it with about as much enthusiasm as if he were deciding what to have for breakfast. "While you're getting some sleep. Alfred has the spare bedroom set up for you."

 

"Which one," Lex muttered sarcastically. Bruce ignored him. "It's Thursday," Lex reminded Bruce. Bruce shook his head.

 

"You're not going back to school. Not until I know you're safe."

 

"You're worrying about that now?" Lex was incredulous. "Where were you when I was ten miles above the ground?"

 

Bruce fixed Lex with a look that brooked no argument. "Get some sleep, Lex. I'll see you in the morning." With that, Bruce walked briskly out of the room, his wool trenchcoat fanning out behind him.


	10. Chapter 9

Bruce himself came out to open the gate. Lex stayed where he'd been deposited by his mysterious savior, who at first Lex had thought was sent to destroy him. He'd been sure that would be his end, this tight steel cage, crushing him to death before he could seek the truth behind Dr. Walsh's disappearance and the money that had been sent for him. Instead, Lex had been rescued from a building he hadn't even known was going to explode.

 

Lex looked up blankly when Bruce came to stand over him. Just a slight shake of Bruce's head, and Lex could imagine what Bruce was thinking, all the questions Bruce wanted to ask. Of course, Bruce, being a minimalist when it came to words, simply offered his hand.

 

Lex could count on one hand the number of times Bruce had initiated a conversation between them. For some reason, though, Bruce had watched over him when he needed watching, supported him when he needed supporting. Even after all the shit with Lionel, Bruce had never abandoned him, no matter how many times Lex asked for favors or insisted he could handle whatever life threw at him. Lex always came crawling back, and Bruce always let him in.

 

Nevertheless, he dropped Bruce's hand as soon as he was standing. Lex brushed himself off and followed Bruce calmly into the house. The calm was no more than a mask, and Lex knew Bruce knew it. His mind was in chaos as he tried to figure out what he would do next. Lionel was still out there, and so was Dr. Walsh. Without the money or the envelope to trace, Lex wasn't sure how he would find Dr. Walsh. His only true recourse was Dr. Swann, and with Lionel probably assuming that Lex was dead, contacting anyone would be very risky now.

 

He expected Bruce to offer him a meal or a bed, possibly both, but Bruce continued his brisk pace toward the den. Ah, of course. Lex smiled to himself. It had been too long since he'd kept civilized company, the kind that kept good scotch around a warm fire. Just what he needed to unwind. Bruce knew him so well.

 

Scotch, a crackling fire, and becoming reacquainted with a man he'd once known so well. Lex lifted a hand to Bruce's shoulder as the door to the den swung open, starving for the touch of someone he could trust. There were so very few people who fit that description. Between Bruce's hospitality, and hopefully, Bruce's body, Lex could use tonight to forget about everything he needed to remember. Tomorrow, he could get back to the mystery at hand.

 

Bruce tipped his shoulder, causing Lex's hand to fall away. Disappointed, but not honestly surprised, Lex slipped his hands back into his pockets. In the course of one day he'd been denied his course schedule, discovered that his research advisor was missing, and been arresting for trying to help said research advisor. He could live with being rejected by Bruce.

 

"Lex." Bruce directed Lex's attention to the leather chair on the opposite side of the room, and for the first time, Lex realized they weren't alone. He blinked rapidly, trying to reconcile the facts he knew with the figure in front of his very eyes. "I believe you know Dr. Walsh."

 

\---

Impossible. Dr. Walsh was missing. He had been for six days, according to Dr. Swann, and Lex had taken the fall for stolen property Walsh should have received. Lex narrowed his eyes, trying to decide which one of them he should be angry at. Dr. Walsh for not contacting Lex and letting him know he was going to disappear, or Bruce for not informing him that there was no need to investigate Dr. Walsh's disappearance. If either of them had said something, none of this would have happened. Lex wouldn't have had to spend the day in jail, nor would he have had to face his father again. He wouldn't have had to risk his life, either.

 

Once again, he'd been rescued from certain death, and Lex knew neither the reason nor the person - could it really be a person? - that had spared his life.

 

"Lex," Dr. Walsh began before Lex could say anything, "we expected you back two hours ago. What happened?"

 

"That's what I'd like to know." Lex turned his accusing gaze on Bruce, who was casually taking a seat behind his desk. "Weren't you the least bit concerned as to why I wasn't there when your driver showed up and couldn't find me?"

 

"Don't ask, don't tell, Lex. Hasn't that always been the way you work?"

 

Lex leveled a glare at Bruce, then turned toward his one time research advisor. "Dr. Walsh," he said slowly, "I'm glad to see that you're alive and well. However, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate a word alone with Mr. Wayne."

 

Dr. Walsh looked nervously between Lex and Bruce. At a nod from Bruce, Dr. Walsh pushed himself up from the chair and stepped quietly from the den. Lex paced back and forth in front of Bruce's desk.

 

"Why didn't you tell me he was here?"

 

"You're smarter than that, Lex," Bruce replied dryly. "It was for his own safety."

 

"What about *my* safety, Bruce? Did you ever think about that?" Lex stalked to Bruce's desk, bracing himself with his hands clenching the edge. "You had to know I'd be looking for him."

 

"And then you would have come to me," Bruce said matter-of-factly. "Which you did." Folding his right hand over his left on the desk, Bruce looked mildly up at Lex. "You were never in any danger."

 

"Never in any..." Lex shook his head, incredulous. "I was *arrested*. My *father* threatened to send me to *Belle Reve* if I didn't keep my mouth shut. And then the building I was in *exploded*. I shouldn't be *alive*, Bruce."

 

Bruce didn't even blink. He stared at Lex. Then he pushed back from the desk, swiveled around in his chair, opened the doors on the cabinet behind the desk, and turned on the television. The story was just breaking on the evening news.

 

Bruce steepled his hands together, resting his chin on the tips of his fingers. After several minutes of this, he finally turned around to face Lex again. "I'm going to find out who did this, Lex." Bruce said it with about as much enthusiasm as if he were deciding what to have for breakfast. "While you're getting some sleep. Alfred has the spare bedroom set up for you."

 

"Which one," Lex muttered sarcastically. Bruce ignored him. "It's Thursday," Lex reminded Bruce. Bruce shook his head.

 

"You're not going back to school. Not until I know you're safe."

 

"You're worrying about that now?" Lex was incredulous. "Where were you when I was ten miles above the ground?"

 

Bruce fixed Lex with a look that brooked no argument. "Get some sleep, Lex. I'll see you in the morning." With that, Bruce walked briskly out of the room, his wool trenchcoat fanning out behind him.


	11. Chapter 11

"At approximately seven o'clock last night a bomb went off in the Metropolis police station. Investigators estimate over forty casualities at this time, which may include Alexander "Lex" Luthor, who was allegedly being held at the time for receiving stolen property. While we cannot verify his presence at this time, if our sources are correct, he is most certainly, unfortunately, among the casualties this morning."

 

Lex vehemently pressed the 'off' button for the television, stopping short of punching it off because it was Bruce's television and not his. If it were his, though, it would most certainly, unfortunately, be in several pieces right now.

 

How *dare* they talk about him as if he were still a Luthor? He'd abandoned that namesake years ago, gone so far as to get his name legally changed, and it didn't make a difference. Sure, his death certificate would show that Alexander Joseph was dead, but the public would always know him as Lex Luthor.

 

Lex stepped into a pair of gray sweats Bruce had left him, then stalked down to the dining area. Dr. Walsh sat at the head of the table eating a generous breakfast that had no doubt been made for him by the butler, Alfred. Alfred, who sat perpendicular to Dr. Walsh, discussing something Lex didn't catch because they went silent as soon as he entered the room. Lex was too pissed to bother with sarcasm about the fact that they'd obviously been discussing him, and went straight through to the kitchen to sort through the cabinets and find some cereal, despite the fact that his appetite was near nonexistant.

 

"Are you all right, Master Joseph?"

 

Bruce's lapdog had followed him into the kitchen, undoubtedly to serve him as was his obligation. Lex shrugged, grateful at least that Alfred recognized his name change, and turned around to face the man.

 

"I'm dead," he told Alfred flatly, rummaging through the other cabinets to find a bowl and a glass. Alfred took the cereal from him and gave him a stern look. Rolling his eyes, Lex retreated to the island in the middle of the kitchen, lounging back against it as Alfred went about making him breakfast.

 

"Pardon my saying so, sir, but you look very much alive to me."

 

Lex gazed apathetically at Alfred, slamming the cabinet door shut as he stepped away with his meager breakfast. To the fridge for some milk, and this time, the slamming of the door was punctuated by a barely detectable creaking in the front room.

 

Holding his bowl at stomach-level, Lex stepped out into the foyer, leaning against the doorframe as Bruce attempted to steal upstairs undetected. He was caught, though, and Lex wasn't about to let him get away without question. "Looking for trouble again, Bruce?"

 

The black eye that was revealed when Bruce turned to face him confirmed Lex's theory. Bruce had gone out during the night, finding trouble if there'd been any and making trouble if there hadn't. But Bruce ignored Lex's accusation, his eyes raking over Lex's chest. "No more than you," he replied, and turned to ascend the stairs.

 

When Lex looked down, he saw the bruising for the first time. A thick band of blue with purple stippling ran from one side of his chest to the other, a matching bruise on each bicep. Lex didn't know and he didn't care what Bruce thought was the cause; all he knew was that what had happened last night hadn't been a dream. The explosion, the distant heat, the steel arms holding him suffocatingly tight as Metropolis and then Gotham filled his line of sight.

 

Dr. Walsh said nothing when Lex returned to the dining room. But instead of joining the scientist and the butler for breakfast, Lex walked through to the other doorway. He would eat alone in the weed-infested courtyard, left with only his thoughts about the past week and the imaginings of the show his father would gleefully put on to mourn the loss of his only son.


End file.
